“System Message”… if you don’t do just as I say to the Registry, I will take your firstborn, and I promise your car will get only 6 miles per gallon. Please press “Ok” or “No”.
“Server Busy”.. Please press “Switch to” or “Retry”….
“Adserver.com” Please buy our shit. I know you didn’t order our shit, or enter our www-thingy, we don’t care, we’re here, we’re as invasive as a telemarketer- but ‘ha ha’ you can’t hangup on us, we’ve infiltered in your system, and we know you’re a dumbass and have no idea how to find malware remover… better yet… we seen ya get online with your bank, HA HA HA, we know ya ain’t got the money to purchase a good malware remover (or a cell phone, or a new car, etc.etc.)
ANTS!… GD Ants!… Look at ‘em… there’s a lunch line from the patio door straight to the trash can! Sonsabitches, how’d they get in?
ACHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO….. Oh man, allergies.. There’s pollen shit in the air… I can’t take it…. Sniff, sniff - wipe -wipe on sleeve… Why did God create that stuff?………………
HEY!!!!!!!!! What’s that red spot above my hand?… Uh oh, I remember weeding the front flower bed last week… Shit… (Four days later).. “Doc, hi, it’s Vic… I think I got inta some bad shit ‘cause only 20% of my skin looks the way it usedta… what IS the purpose of poison ivy?”
There is a freaking raccoon staring at me from the attic. He don’t pay the mortgage, I do. This ain’t no labor and delivery ward for critters… Git urass out. Uh huh, sure. Like we can make our bodies ½ as big to crawl thru spaces… you patch it up, we’ll get thru it again.. Ahhhhh, this insulation sure is warm to lay in in the winter… oh… and the plastic on your phone cord? YUMMY!
“FREE MACY’S $500 CARD.” Oh hell yeah, where do I sign up? You just did you idiot, when you opened me. We’ve got your password now… Oh.. And you’ll be receiving on average 75 emails a day in your REGULAR (not junk) inbox from finer educational institutions, travel and tourism junkets, el cheapo prescription sellers, all kinds of good shit for you to search thru…
“Download this free ringtone.” I don’t have a cell phone. Too late now sucker. We know your IP address, we’re selling it for X-amounta dollars to all these thirsty low end, backdoor dot-coms, and you now have cyber herpes forever and ever.
I hate it. I’ve had all I can takes and I can’t takes no more. I’ve completely wiped out my hard-drive (on purpose) three times in the last month to get ridda this crap. I’ve fed the ants this poison crap that they festively encircle as if Jim Jones himself was there in the middle preaching. They eventually come back, and we do it again. I spent $14.99 on poison ivy killer insteada going to eat at the new Texas Roadhouse in town.. Additionally, I figured what the hey.. I ain’t contributing to my 401K any more, I’m buying stock in Benadryl instead…
There’s so many GD space invaders out there, I’m scared shitless to even attempt to get laid. Lord knows my pee pee would prolly fall off in less than ten days. Every time I start my computer - I’ve got curse words readied on the tippa ma tongue.
About all I know about IT is that it comes after SH. I don’t know malware from spy ware from Trojans.. I can pop them three Restore CD’s in and jualah, they’re (the space invaders) are gone. It’s a pain in the ying yang.. And I ain’t a real patient person.
For the moment. I’m clean. The raccoons completely wiped out my phone service and moved on. The frost (and the $14.99 spray) took carea the ivy. Ain’t seen the ants in over three months.. Yahoo toolbar, for the short term, is keeping pop ups away. And I’ve rearranged all the letters/numbers in my passwords for MSN, Yahoo, MySpace, Singles.net, Voyeurweb (oops, never mind)…..
For the moment, I’m clean. Invasive is just that. In advance, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank your for allowing me to whine. Feel much better now. Brb. Going to make a sandwich.
…..
……
……..
DAMMIT… I KNOW I JUST BOUGHT THIS LOAF? THE HELL’D THE MOLD COME FROM? Love, Victurd.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
2007 New Year's Resolutions... (A look at the grade card) by Henry Gibson
YES, I do have a calendar in my house (List was composed March-something).... Oops, brb, switching from Feb to Mar.
No, I didn't ride the short bus to school... (and no, I didn't walk 2miles uphill both ways..
normally Robert W. picked me up and we smoked cigs the whole way.)
It's just that I've been thinking and planning this day for almost three months. If you believe that, would you have interest in purchasing 1993 Ford Taurus (cheap) for $1999?
I resolve to make a snow angel in 2007. (Oops. Ain’t done it. Still one day left. Whatever sounded so cool about this one at the time - now comes the reality “that’d be cold as shit.” I think the general purpose of this one was to do something stupid and/or youthful - and I’ve done plenty of those yet I know, I failed here.)
I resolve to pee my name in the snow in 2007. First name only.. think the prostrate is swollen, just ain't got the pee staying power I usedta… (Sorry to announce, failure here too. Does peeing in my styro coffee cup on the way to work count? Strike two.)
I resolve to see my new friend pee her name in snow in 2007. She said she could and that's double dog dare. (My new friend is now my old friend, and no, this one didn’t happen either. Knowing Kathie better now, I have no doubt she can do this, including cross-the-T and dot-the-I.)
I resolve to tell onea them impactive folks they were impactive in my lives. I won't depress them and show them my 401K.. they might feel as if they failed. (I’m on an unfortunate roll here. Failed at this one. I just read onea my favorite alltime teachers passed @ age 93. She, in “the day of men” singlehandedly started the Communication’s Department, the Student Newspaper, the Debate team AND the Campus radio station in her 32 year tenure at the small college I attended. At five feet tall, she was mighty. She taught with a smile and somehow you even felt good when she was critiquing your work. I take great pride in the fact that she once told me “you are the best Sport’s writer I’ve ever had.” Don’t be impressed, she was by then already up in years - so probably forgetful. If you can hear in heaven, Dr. Bowman you were impactive in my life.)
I resolve to get my taters planted by St. Patty's Day, 2007. Oops. Scratch that sonofabitch, sorry. (I think this makes me Oh for Five.)
I resolve to get laid in 2007. (Ok, one for six.)
I resolve to sleep outside at least once in 2007. (One for seven…. This will again be on my list for 2008 - as will the “tell the impactive ones there were just that.”)
I resolve to continue writing this stupid blog thru 2007 inspitea you non-commenting cocksuckers -but, said with love…(Two for eight)
I resolve to write about something OTHER THAN Victor a minimum of once a week. (I think I’ve kinda done that. I am absolutely not the subject here - life is, or is intended to be.. Three for Nine.)
I resolve to have a new address, ie, sell this hunka-junk, by 12/31/2007. (I gots one day left, and it ain’t gonna happen. Three for Ten.)
I resolve to have a Christmas tree up this year. You think that's an easy one for a depressed ole fool? (Twinkle twinkle little star, Four for Eleven.)
I resolve to contact some very good friends I haven't talked to for quite some time... Especially Herbert & Dale. (I drove to Dale’s house… it’d been so long.. Many new houses… I’d forgotten which was his… a few days later, armed with the address - I went, we talked ‘yesterday’ and it was every bit as rewarding as I thought it would be. I know not Herbert’s address. I have called and left messages. Judges ruling: Five for Twelve.)
I resolve to get started on this list a tad bit sooner in 2008. (I’ve already said I have two to start with, so think that will happen. Six for Thirteen.)
I resolve to spend a minimum of 4 nights in a hotel or motel in 2007. (Two nights. Reducing this to 3 for next year - but hopefully will surpass that. Six for Fourteen.)
I resolve to spend 24 hours straight some day with someone without a sole knowing where I’m at. (Seven for Fifteen.)
I resolve to stop and watch a little league game this summer even if I don't know a single snotnose there. (Eight for Sixteen.)
I resolve to get CD player hooked up to bigass speakers I gots sittin' in garage gathering cobwebs. (Deeper cobwebs, Eight for Seventeen.)
I resolve to play one kickass prank on someone at work this year. (I dunno about kickass, I’m not the judge.. I did cut a picture of the quarterback that Lisa/Kendra/Kathie/Connie [KU loving pukes] are so fond of… remember? The one where he had the huge clump of sod on his helmet after MIZ-ZOU sacked his ass in the end zone?… and I cutout an angel pic off the internet.. Affixed said “sad-sack”’s head atop, and it graced our Christmas tree at work. I pranked Leon/the beloved 73 yr old… the crayoned pic of a KU guy [drawn by 6 yr old son of co-worker Terry] - I saved it… copied it.. Wrote all kinds of nasty shit on it… Hung the real one in my cubicle.. Sent the smartass one back to Terry via email. I’m counting Nine for Eighteen.)
I resolve to throw away any skidmarked underwear (Still skidmarked after washing) at the Laundrymat. (Ten for Nineteen.)
I resolve to try dancing (sober) at least once in 2007. (Eleven for Twenty.)
I resolve to go a minimum of 24 hours in a row without a cig in 2007. (One night… only days after purchase of Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln… I smoked my last cig as I clicked closed all the windows here prior to going to bed. “I won’t smoke tomorrow.” Didn’t buy any on the way into work - took son to work downtown, drove from Downtown to Grandview - thru what some call “the Hood.” GD Hot….. Rod…. Lincoln… overheated.. I kept driving… Made it to within two and one-half miles of work… “I know, I’ll just lock it up… start walking.. It’s 7:40am, SURELY someone [of the 50+ I work with] will drive this route… Huh uh, they didn’t. By the time this 36 inch waist [threatening to be 38] arrived at work, the first words outta my mouth were “GIVE ME A CIGARETTE.” Eleven for Twenty-one.)
I resolve to quit this list now so you won't go to sleep. If you already did, then save this and reread on an insomnia night.
If you made any resolutions, please don't post a comment. We'd rather sit and wonder what they were, and if you've kept them thus far. Happy New Year... Marching to a different drummer, love, Victurd. (I will bore you with 2008 ones after the firsta the year, the Good Lord willing. Hey, I’ve kinda had fun with these - I strongly suggest you do ‘em, and keep the list handy to check your progress………. Happy New Year… Tomorrow is “M”s birthday, Happy Birthday M. love, Victurd.
No, I didn't ride the short bus to school... (and no, I didn't walk 2miles uphill both ways..
normally Robert W. picked me up and we smoked cigs the whole way.)
It's just that I've been thinking and planning this day for almost three months. If you believe that, would you have interest in purchasing 1993 Ford Taurus (cheap) for $1999?
I resolve to make a snow angel in 2007. (Oops. Ain’t done it. Still one day left. Whatever sounded so cool about this one at the time - now comes the reality “that’d be cold as shit.” I think the general purpose of this one was to do something stupid and/or youthful - and I’ve done plenty of those yet I know, I failed here.)
I resolve to pee my name in the snow in 2007. First name only.. think the prostrate is swollen, just ain't got the pee staying power I usedta… (Sorry to announce, failure here too. Does peeing in my styro coffee cup on the way to work count? Strike two.)
I resolve to see my new friend pee her name in snow in 2007. She said she could and that's double dog dare. (My new friend is now my old friend, and no, this one didn’t happen either. Knowing Kathie better now, I have no doubt she can do this, including cross-the-T and dot-the-I.)
I resolve to tell onea them impactive folks they were impactive in my lives. I won't depress them and show them my 401K.. they might feel as if they failed. (I’m on an unfortunate roll here. Failed at this one. I just read onea my favorite alltime teachers passed @ age 93. She, in “the day of men” singlehandedly started the Communication’s Department, the Student Newspaper, the Debate team AND the Campus radio station in her 32 year tenure at the small college I attended. At five feet tall, she was mighty. She taught with a smile and somehow you even felt good when she was critiquing your work. I take great pride in the fact that she once told me “you are the best Sport’s writer I’ve ever had.” Don’t be impressed, she was by then already up in years - so probably forgetful. If you can hear in heaven, Dr. Bowman you were impactive in my life.)
I resolve to get my taters planted by St. Patty's Day, 2007. Oops. Scratch that sonofabitch, sorry. (I think this makes me Oh for Five.)
I resolve to get laid in 2007. (Ok, one for six.)
I resolve to sleep outside at least once in 2007. (One for seven…. This will again be on my list for 2008 - as will the “tell the impactive ones there were just that.”)
I resolve to continue writing this stupid blog thru 2007 inspitea you non-commenting cocksuckers -but, said with love…(Two for eight)
I resolve to write about something OTHER THAN Victor a minimum of once a week. (I think I’ve kinda done that. I am absolutely not the subject here - life is, or is intended to be.. Three for Nine.)
I resolve to have a new address, ie, sell this hunka-junk, by 12/31/2007. (I gots one day left, and it ain’t gonna happen. Three for Ten.)
I resolve to have a Christmas tree up this year. You think that's an easy one for a depressed ole fool? (Twinkle twinkle little star, Four for Eleven.)
I resolve to contact some very good friends I haven't talked to for quite some time... Especially Herbert & Dale. (I drove to Dale’s house… it’d been so long.. Many new houses… I’d forgotten which was his… a few days later, armed with the address - I went, we talked ‘yesterday’ and it was every bit as rewarding as I thought it would be. I know not Herbert’s address. I have called and left messages. Judges ruling: Five for Twelve.)
I resolve to get started on this list a tad bit sooner in 2008. (I’ve already said I have two to start with, so think that will happen. Six for Thirteen.)
I resolve to spend a minimum of 4 nights in a hotel or motel in 2007. (Two nights. Reducing this to 3 for next year - but hopefully will surpass that. Six for Fourteen.)
I resolve to spend 24 hours straight some day with someone without a sole knowing where I’m at. (Seven for Fifteen.)
I resolve to stop and watch a little league game this summer even if I don't know a single snotnose there. (Eight for Sixteen.)
I resolve to get CD player hooked up to bigass speakers I gots sittin' in garage gathering cobwebs. (Deeper cobwebs, Eight for Seventeen.)
I resolve to play one kickass prank on someone at work this year. (I dunno about kickass, I’m not the judge.. I did cut a picture of the quarterback that Lisa/Kendra/Kathie/Connie [KU loving pukes] are so fond of… remember? The one where he had the huge clump of sod on his helmet after MIZ-ZOU sacked his ass in the end zone?… and I cutout an angel pic off the internet.. Affixed said “sad-sack”’s head atop, and it graced our Christmas tree at work. I pranked Leon/the beloved 73 yr old… the crayoned pic of a KU guy [drawn by 6 yr old son of co-worker Terry] - I saved it… copied it.. Wrote all kinds of nasty shit on it… Hung the real one in my cubicle.. Sent the smartass one back to Terry via email. I’m counting Nine for Eighteen.)
I resolve to throw away any skidmarked underwear (Still skidmarked after washing) at the Laundrymat. (Ten for Nineteen.)
I resolve to try dancing (sober) at least once in 2007. (Eleven for Twenty.)
I resolve to go a minimum of 24 hours in a row without a cig in 2007. (One night… only days after purchase of Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln… I smoked my last cig as I clicked closed all the windows here prior to going to bed. “I won’t smoke tomorrow.” Didn’t buy any on the way into work - took son to work downtown, drove from Downtown to Grandview - thru what some call “the Hood.” GD Hot….. Rod…. Lincoln… overheated.. I kept driving… Made it to within two and one-half miles of work… “I know, I’ll just lock it up… start walking.. It’s 7:40am, SURELY someone [of the 50+ I work with] will drive this route… Huh uh, they didn’t. By the time this 36 inch waist [threatening to be 38] arrived at work, the first words outta my mouth were “GIVE ME A CIGARETTE.” Eleven for Twenty-one.)
I resolve to quit this list now so you won't go to sleep. If you already did, then save this and reread on an insomnia night.
If you made any resolutions, please don't post a comment. We'd rather sit and wonder what they were, and if you've kept them thus far. Happy New Year... Marching to a different drummer, love, Victurd. (I will bore you with 2008 ones after the firsta the year, the Good Lord willing. Hey, I’ve kinda had fun with these - I strongly suggest you do ‘em, and keep the list handy to check your progress………. Happy New Year… Tomorrow is “M”s birthday, Happy Birthday M. love, Victurd.
Friday, December 28, 2007
The rear view mirror….
We look out the magnificent windshield… and we get that shot.. That shot at feasting our eyeballs on fancy…. Could be fleeting… dependent upon our speed.. Soon, it’s in the rear view mirror….
We watch others from the rear view mirror… and they don’t stay there long… if they’re on our tail - and the lanes beside are clogged, it really pisses me off… if the lanes ain’t clogged, and they jet around oblivious to the posted speed limit - I wonder to myself “I’ve never heard anyone yelp “YES!! YES!!! I LOVE my job sooooo much I break speed barriers to get there!”
Inotherwords, there are those who choose to hurry thru life… hustle here, hustle there.. And before you know it, it’s all in their rear view mirror.
The windshield is today.. Which way we choose to turn.. How fast we decide to go… What out there interests us.. We have a choice to see good stuff.. Or see stuff and think about it negatively… I kinda believe it’s cool to go a little slower.. Suckup the good.. Or course there’s negative looking thru our windshields - but why should we focus on that when there’s a full 180 to choose from?
I worry about my son because he sees and focus’s mostly on the negative… he’s bothered by it.. It captivates his time, his worry, his life… to date, the stuff in his rear view mirror is ‘bad stuff.’ I pray for the day he sees things, events, people, situations, and stops to select what’s good out of it - and to not worry on the bad stuff now in the rear view mirror… In due time then, there’d be rainbows in the rear view mirror..
Victor, you’re preaching again. Ok, then why don’t u sumbitches tithe then? Hehe. Never forget (please) I talk to myself here.. And anyone is welcome to ride shotgun and look thru the windshield wit’ me…
Loud person on the left sidea the street? Then let’s checkout that architectural beauty on the right. Speedy Gonzales passing by at 82 MPH? Checkout Grandpa over there doing 60 in the 65 - enjoying the scenery.. Snowcovered streets - only tire paths to tread on? Did u see the beauty of the snow as it formed on the limbs…
As we age, we’re obviously destined for less and less windshield time. We’re all human. Close ur ears - we fuckup. Soon though, it’s in our rear view mirror - not forgotten, probably regretted. So we face that windshield again - and think about the choices we have to live life with…
Do we want the view in the mirror to be litter, broken bottles, false promises, anger… or would it be better if it were photo’s, images of good times, items of beauty, harmony….
I planta think about that windshield daily as I go. Yes, I’m the one that’s cussed at in this God awful 3 inch snow as I creep 45 in a 65... It’s inherited, that whenever I pass someone, kids clap. I try to live life one car length back for every 10mph… I think ya see more that away.. I think the muscles don’t get so taught.. I think it’s probably cardiovascular healthy. (Sure Victor, you probably smoke six cigs going to work at 60mph versus four at 65 mph. Nice cardio workout.) Kiss my ass.
If only we could allow our windshields - we spend so much damn time there - to remind ourselves we’re creating the rear view of our lives as we go.
Do however, remember it’s Ok to cuss if you get splattered with yucky mud stuff, you’re windshield washers work worse than the homeless… the sun (snow, rain, sleet, ice) will occasionally affect our view… shit happens.. Herm Edwards, somewhat beloved coach of the 4-11 Kansas City Chiefs perhaps summed up downside of life (and football) best.. “it happens, GET OVER IT.” For the sooner we do, the further back from our rear view it is.
Loveya… going to Dollar General now.. Buying somea that blue crap to fill up my spray bottle to clean my windshield. Repeat after me: chick magnet. Hehe. I just GOTTA find me someone to hold the electric window button down whilst I spray away the windshield for an assuredly better view on life. Victurd.
We watch others from the rear view mirror… and they don’t stay there long… if they’re on our tail - and the lanes beside are clogged, it really pisses me off… if the lanes ain’t clogged, and they jet around oblivious to the posted speed limit - I wonder to myself “I’ve never heard anyone yelp “YES!! YES!!! I LOVE my job sooooo much I break speed barriers to get there!”
Inotherwords, there are those who choose to hurry thru life… hustle here, hustle there.. And before you know it, it’s all in their rear view mirror.
The windshield is today.. Which way we choose to turn.. How fast we decide to go… What out there interests us.. We have a choice to see good stuff.. Or see stuff and think about it negatively… I kinda believe it’s cool to go a little slower.. Suckup the good.. Or course there’s negative looking thru our windshields - but why should we focus on that when there’s a full 180 to choose from?
I worry about my son because he sees and focus’s mostly on the negative… he’s bothered by it.. It captivates his time, his worry, his life… to date, the stuff in his rear view mirror is ‘bad stuff.’ I pray for the day he sees things, events, people, situations, and stops to select what’s good out of it - and to not worry on the bad stuff now in the rear view mirror… In due time then, there’d be rainbows in the rear view mirror..
Victor, you’re preaching again. Ok, then why don’t u sumbitches tithe then? Hehe. Never forget (please) I talk to myself here.. And anyone is welcome to ride shotgun and look thru the windshield wit’ me…
Loud person on the left sidea the street? Then let’s checkout that architectural beauty on the right. Speedy Gonzales passing by at 82 MPH? Checkout Grandpa over there doing 60 in the 65 - enjoying the scenery.. Snowcovered streets - only tire paths to tread on? Did u see the beauty of the snow as it formed on the limbs…
As we age, we’re obviously destined for less and less windshield time. We’re all human. Close ur ears - we fuckup. Soon though, it’s in our rear view mirror - not forgotten, probably regretted. So we face that windshield again - and think about the choices we have to live life with…
Do we want the view in the mirror to be litter, broken bottles, false promises, anger… or would it be better if it were photo’s, images of good times, items of beauty, harmony….
I planta think about that windshield daily as I go. Yes, I’m the one that’s cussed at in this God awful 3 inch snow as I creep 45 in a 65... It’s inherited, that whenever I pass someone, kids clap. I try to live life one car length back for every 10mph… I think ya see more that away.. I think the muscles don’t get so taught.. I think it’s probably cardiovascular healthy. (Sure Victor, you probably smoke six cigs going to work at 60mph versus four at 65 mph. Nice cardio workout.) Kiss my ass.
If only we could allow our windshields - we spend so much damn time there - to remind ourselves we’re creating the rear view of our lives as we go.
Do however, remember it’s Ok to cuss if you get splattered with yucky mud stuff, you’re windshield washers work worse than the homeless… the sun (snow, rain, sleet, ice) will occasionally affect our view… shit happens.. Herm Edwards, somewhat beloved coach of the 4-11 Kansas City Chiefs perhaps summed up downside of life (and football) best.. “it happens, GET OVER IT.” For the sooner we do, the further back from our rear view it is.
Loveya… going to Dollar General now.. Buying somea that blue crap to fill up my spray bottle to clean my windshield. Repeat after me: chick magnet. Hehe. I just GOTTA find me someone to hold the electric window button down whilst I spray away the windshield for an assuredly better view on life. Victurd.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Of life and hamster wheels…….
The notion conjures up pleasurable, at least for the hamster. Aerobic, mebbe, pleasurable, for certain.
What is your “hamster wheel”? We’ve done float your boat.. We’ve asked for “feel goods”. We’ve mentioned “mad, amorous.” We’ve talked “glass half full.” “I’m in love with”…”Love/hate.”
We ain’t discussed “the wheel.” (Watch the wheel, oh Vanna)…
Is there anything, in your recollection, that likens a hamster on a wheel? Really kinda going nowhere, but, to him, he’s going “everywhere.” Tantric almost. Tantric for certain.
When are you tantric?… Oh… I see… . Well, reckon we all are that/then… it’s kinda the weirdest, mebbe most wonderful thing about life itself - and it’s a let-urself-go kinda feel. Absolutely NOTHING like when we sit in our cubicles. Huh-uh, nope, it ain’t at all like the leisure times around friends. It doesn’t at all resemble life from the 43rd row at the St. James Catholic Church (Just shoot me “M”, the hamsters did remind me of Catholic)…
To me, the hamster on the wheel is an outta-control feel good. There are every day feel goods. Obviously, we’ve just witnessed holiday feel goods. We people watch, immerse ourselves in others, and we have friend/loved one/coworker feel goods.
I’m talking tantric here. Hamster spinning outta control…
Are you ever that? WHEN?
Victor, we’ve hung around this forlorn place long enough to know, you’re gonna tell us exactly when you feel tantric… like the little hamster on the wheel….
Very good… You saved my fingers some keyboard exercise…
I suppose I am tantric with that first one you suggested. “S” is so unlike anything else we do on this planet, I reckon that enables tantric to be, Ok.
Gambling. Spin that wheel all night. I once sat 24+ hours at a blackjack table in Vegas. Spin, spin, spin. Going nowhere, but, will see the result when I get off the wheel. It is a rush to me, and rush equates to tantric.
Kid’s sports. I am tantric about kid’s sports. I love anything and everything involved. The kid’s smiles, trepidation, gung-ho’edness, fervor, apathy, fortitude,… the same with the parents.. The concern they have, the space they give or don’t give… the collective group… We act like a GD hamster on a wheel at kid’s sporting events. Stupid, but we do it anyways.
Dance floor. If one were to compare record speeds (33, 45, 78... If you’re a pup, you’ll never understand) with dance style… ‘tantric-ness’… I’m officially a 33. However.. I’ve danced with tantric 45’s and “oh hell” one or two tantric 78’s. Movement. Stupid. Good. If all that makes sense.
Grown up sporting events. Ever watch the TV, see eight guys on the front row topless in 20-something degree weather with each wearing one letter of their school of infamy? Like W-I-L-D-C-A-T-S? I have. Ever seen a touchdown scored, and they zeroed in on an accountant-type who loves his beloved 2-7 team and he flashes the “we’re number one” finger whilst jumping up and down for the first exercise he’s had in three weeks? Tantric. I have seen ‘em.
Ever view the folks sitting behind the basket during a nationally televised game.. Whilst the free-throw shooter prepares to launch? I have. It’s tantric. Some waive this way, some the other, some jump up, some down. Tantric behavior.
Little kids… Exiting the car, finally getting into the McDonald’s “Ball land.”… running up to the entrance of DisneyWorld/Land… the long awaited drive to granny’s.. their leap from the car… anything with pent up excitement… they’re tantric… on the hamster wheel.. Still going…
A heartfelt argument. Sure. We lose it. We’re in motion, the GD wheel is spinning, we say, do things we wish we wouldn’ta, but when the GD wheel is in motion, it’s pretty damn tough to not get caught up in it.
And finally… sometimes life itself is like a hamster wheel… We go to work on Monday… we finally get home on Friday.. And we feel like we’ve been on that GD wheel, haven’t been able to do this, do that, promise we will this weekend… Tantric, life can be tantric.
Ole ‘whatshername’ usedta say (I know Cyn, I should “let it go”!) “I do it all.” From her shoes, in the relationship, she was tantric, the hamster on the wheel.. Uh huh, I’d concur. About the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement, the attic, the garage. Did I miss a room? Hehe.
Hamster’s on a wheel are fun. In life, when we’re so emotionally invested in something, it’s a rush too. I’m not sure if I’d rather be 100% even keel, or, 50% up (on the wheel), 50% down.
Either way… this blog is a way to have a squeaky wheel. May there be aspects in your life where you wanna continue it ‘forever’ by staying on the wheel. May you have the control to put your ‘paw’ down when it’s time to slow down.
I wonder if that has anything to do with why they don’t live so long?
Happy evening, love, Victurd.
What is your “hamster wheel”? We’ve done float your boat.. We’ve asked for “feel goods”. We’ve mentioned “mad, amorous.” We’ve talked “glass half full.” “I’m in love with”…”Love/hate.”
We ain’t discussed “the wheel.” (Watch the wheel, oh Vanna)…
Is there anything, in your recollection, that likens a hamster on a wheel? Really kinda going nowhere, but, to him, he’s going “everywhere.” Tantric almost. Tantric for certain.
When are you tantric?… Oh… I see… . Well, reckon we all are that/then… it’s kinda the weirdest, mebbe most wonderful thing about life itself - and it’s a let-urself-go kinda feel. Absolutely NOTHING like when we sit in our cubicles. Huh-uh, nope, it ain’t at all like the leisure times around friends. It doesn’t at all resemble life from the 43rd row at the St. James Catholic Church (Just shoot me “M”, the hamsters did remind me of Catholic)…
To me, the hamster on the wheel is an outta-control feel good. There are every day feel goods. Obviously, we’ve just witnessed holiday feel goods. We people watch, immerse ourselves in others, and we have friend/loved one/coworker feel goods.
I’m talking tantric here. Hamster spinning outta control…
Are you ever that? WHEN?
Victor, we’ve hung around this forlorn place long enough to know, you’re gonna tell us exactly when you feel tantric… like the little hamster on the wheel….
Very good… You saved my fingers some keyboard exercise…
I suppose I am tantric with that first one you suggested. “S” is so unlike anything else we do on this planet, I reckon that enables tantric to be, Ok.
Gambling. Spin that wheel all night. I once sat 24+ hours at a blackjack table in Vegas. Spin, spin, spin. Going nowhere, but, will see the result when I get off the wheel. It is a rush to me, and rush equates to tantric.
Kid’s sports. I am tantric about kid’s sports. I love anything and everything involved. The kid’s smiles, trepidation, gung-ho’edness, fervor, apathy, fortitude,… the same with the parents.. The concern they have, the space they give or don’t give… the collective group… We act like a GD hamster on a wheel at kid’s sporting events. Stupid, but we do it anyways.
Dance floor. If one were to compare record speeds (33, 45, 78... If you’re a pup, you’ll never understand) with dance style… ‘tantric-ness’… I’m officially a 33. However.. I’ve danced with tantric 45’s and “oh hell” one or two tantric 78’s. Movement. Stupid. Good. If all that makes sense.
Grown up sporting events. Ever watch the TV, see eight guys on the front row topless in 20-something degree weather with each wearing one letter of their school of infamy? Like W-I-L-D-C-A-T-S? I have. Ever seen a touchdown scored, and they zeroed in on an accountant-type who loves his beloved 2-7 team and he flashes the “we’re number one” finger whilst jumping up and down for the first exercise he’s had in three weeks? Tantric. I have seen ‘em.
Ever view the folks sitting behind the basket during a nationally televised game.. Whilst the free-throw shooter prepares to launch? I have. It’s tantric. Some waive this way, some the other, some jump up, some down. Tantric behavior.
Little kids… Exiting the car, finally getting into the McDonald’s “Ball land.”… running up to the entrance of DisneyWorld/Land… the long awaited drive to granny’s.. their leap from the car… anything with pent up excitement… they’re tantric… on the hamster wheel.. Still going…
A heartfelt argument. Sure. We lose it. We’re in motion, the GD wheel is spinning, we say, do things we wish we wouldn’ta, but when the GD wheel is in motion, it’s pretty damn tough to not get caught up in it.
And finally… sometimes life itself is like a hamster wheel… We go to work on Monday… we finally get home on Friday.. And we feel like we’ve been on that GD wheel, haven’t been able to do this, do that, promise we will this weekend… Tantric, life can be tantric.
Ole ‘whatshername’ usedta say (I know Cyn, I should “let it go”!) “I do it all.” From her shoes, in the relationship, she was tantric, the hamster on the wheel.. Uh huh, I’d concur. About the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement, the attic, the garage. Did I miss a room? Hehe.
Hamster’s on a wheel are fun. In life, when we’re so emotionally invested in something, it’s a rush too. I’m not sure if I’d rather be 100% even keel, or, 50% up (on the wheel), 50% down.
Either way… this blog is a way to have a squeaky wheel. May there be aspects in your life where you wanna continue it ‘forever’ by staying on the wheel. May you have the control to put your ‘paw’ down when it’s time to slow down.
I wonder if that has anything to do with why they don’t live so long?
Happy evening, love, Victurd.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
2007.….
I hate it, but it’s time.. We review ‘the claims to fame’ for the year….
Lisa Mari Nowak drove from Houston, TX to Florida, wearing a diaper so she didn’t have to stop - to confront Capt. Collee Shipman in an Orlando airport parking lot and then pepper spray her. In a love triangle, Shipman was dating the apple of Nowak’s eye, astronaut Bill Oefelein.
Anna Nicole Smith’s accidental drug overdose kills her.
Massacre at Virginia Tech kills 33.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows concludes “"The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well." The book sold eleven million copies in the first 24 hours… I too, if I were J.K. Rowling would take off… party like Nikki Sixx
Barry Bonds becomes the all-time home run leader. ‘taint that great?
Senator Larry Craig arrested for playing ‘footsie’, announces resignation from the United States Senate. Really sad to “leave his buddies (buddy’s?) behind.”
Michael Vick admits to bankrolling a dog fighting operation, and to the killing of eight dogs. The Atlanta Falcons would like for him to return $20 million of a signing bonus they recently gave him. Twenty-three months in jail to boot.
The Jena Six. Oh Lord, is it really 2006-2007? I’m not the expert, but paraphrasing what I’ve read - a black student asked an administrator if it was Ok to sit under a tree previously reserved for “white’s only” (I barely remember shit like that in the late 50’s)… Approved.. Soon, whites placed three hangmen’s noose’s over the tree… Some, not sure how many, blacks retaliated by beating up white student. The white students received in school suspension, the black students were charged with beating the white student. Mychal Bell, the only member of the “Jena Six” who was tried, initially had his convictions set aside. He was originally charged with attempted murder, but the charges were subsequently reduced and he was convicted of aggravated battery and conspiracy. Both overturned as he should have been tried as a juvenile, not an adult. In December of 2007, Bell pled guilt to a reducted charge of battery. Sentenced to 18 months. I’m very sad I’m writing this and it’s 2007. Why can’t we be friends, why can’t we be friends.
SoCal fires leave 14 dead.
Al wins Nobel prize for Global Warming fight. Read about it here on his internet.
Mortgage financial crisis. Housing prices, obviously, dropped between 2006-2007. “Teaser” ARM loans were given out, hopeful of a rebounding market. That ain’t happened. As a result, adjustable rate mortgages (monthly payment amounts) have gone thru the roof, and by October of 2007, roughly 16% of subprime loans with ARM’s were 90 days into default, or foreclosure.
Ifya ain’t depressed, I’m impressed… There was good shit that happened too….
US Cancer death rates continue to fall for men, women and children.
Bald Eagles, hell yes! Endangered in 1963 with only 417 pairs remaining, happy to announce there are 11,.040 pairs today. Thank goodness for Hotel California, One of These Nights, Desperado, Witchy Woman and Peaceful Easy Feeling. Soar Eagles, soar.
Americans coffed up a record amount ($300 billion) for charity… primarily due to Katrina, Rita, Wilma and the Asian tsunami.
No nukes in North Korea. Almost a year after North Korea tested an atomic weapon, the nation’s leader pledged to permanently shutdown nuclear operations by year’s end and pursue peace with South Korea.
Hope for Darfur… The UN Security Council voted to send peacekeepers to the war-ravaged Darfur region of Sudan in August, after months of wrangling. Up to 26,000 troops and police make up the world’s largest peacekeeping force, with a majority of blue helmets being worn by Africans from nations like Kenya. Additionally, a major discovery by Boston University researchers may prevent further violence in the future. Using satellite imaging, they have discovered a massive underground lake in the arid Darfur region of Sudan. By digging 1000 wells, they hope to solve the problems of water scarcity - and food shortages - that create much of the violence in the first place.
Whew. After reading all that crap. All, very tense. I’m spent. Here’s hoping we help to create a better 2008. Hey that rhymed. Victor, dammit, go to bed. You’re sposedta be on vacation. Take a break from this blog too eh?
I hope 2007 was a nifty year for you. I, personally, rank it in the bottom third of my life - but, we know I throw pity parties, so the view could be slightly slanted! I’m alive and in love with the thought, create a better 2008.
Love, Victurd
Lisa Mari Nowak drove from Houston, TX to Florida, wearing a diaper so she didn’t have to stop - to confront Capt. Collee Shipman in an Orlando airport parking lot and then pepper spray her. In a love triangle, Shipman was dating the apple of Nowak’s eye, astronaut Bill Oefelein.
Anna Nicole Smith’s accidental drug overdose kills her.
Massacre at Virginia Tech kills 33.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows concludes “"The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well." The book sold eleven million copies in the first 24 hours… I too, if I were J.K. Rowling would take off… party like Nikki Sixx
Barry Bonds becomes the all-time home run leader. ‘taint that great?
Senator Larry Craig arrested for playing ‘footsie’, announces resignation from the United States Senate. Really sad to “leave his buddies (buddy’s?) behind.”
Michael Vick admits to bankrolling a dog fighting operation, and to the killing of eight dogs. The Atlanta Falcons would like for him to return $20 million of a signing bonus they recently gave him. Twenty-three months in jail to boot.
The Jena Six. Oh Lord, is it really 2006-2007? I’m not the expert, but paraphrasing what I’ve read - a black student asked an administrator if it was Ok to sit under a tree previously reserved for “white’s only” (I barely remember shit like that in the late 50’s)… Approved.. Soon, whites placed three hangmen’s noose’s over the tree… Some, not sure how many, blacks retaliated by beating up white student. The white students received in school suspension, the black students were charged with beating the white student. Mychal Bell, the only member of the “Jena Six” who was tried, initially had his convictions set aside. He was originally charged with attempted murder, but the charges were subsequently reduced and he was convicted of aggravated battery and conspiracy. Both overturned as he should have been tried as a juvenile, not an adult. In December of 2007, Bell pled guilt to a reducted charge of battery. Sentenced to 18 months. I’m very sad I’m writing this and it’s 2007. Why can’t we be friends, why can’t we be friends.
SoCal fires leave 14 dead.
Al wins Nobel prize for Global Warming fight. Read about it here on his internet.
Mortgage financial crisis. Housing prices, obviously, dropped between 2006-2007. “Teaser” ARM loans were given out, hopeful of a rebounding market. That ain’t happened. As a result, adjustable rate mortgages (monthly payment amounts) have gone thru the roof, and by October of 2007, roughly 16% of subprime loans with ARM’s were 90 days into default, or foreclosure.
Ifya ain’t depressed, I’m impressed… There was good shit that happened too….
US Cancer death rates continue to fall for men, women and children.
Bald Eagles, hell yes! Endangered in 1963 with only 417 pairs remaining, happy to announce there are 11,.040 pairs today. Thank goodness for Hotel California, One of These Nights, Desperado, Witchy Woman and Peaceful Easy Feeling. Soar Eagles, soar.
Americans coffed up a record amount ($300 billion) for charity… primarily due to Katrina, Rita, Wilma and the Asian tsunami.
No nukes in North Korea. Almost a year after North Korea tested an atomic weapon, the nation’s leader pledged to permanently shutdown nuclear operations by year’s end and pursue peace with South Korea.
Hope for Darfur… The UN Security Council voted to send peacekeepers to the war-ravaged Darfur region of Sudan in August, after months of wrangling. Up to 26,000 troops and police make up the world’s largest peacekeeping force, with a majority of blue helmets being worn by Africans from nations like Kenya. Additionally, a major discovery by Boston University researchers may prevent further violence in the future. Using satellite imaging, they have discovered a massive underground lake in the arid Darfur region of Sudan. By digging 1000 wells, they hope to solve the problems of water scarcity - and food shortages - that create much of the violence in the first place.
Whew. After reading all that crap. All, very tense. I’m spent. Here’s hoping we help to create a better 2008. Hey that rhymed. Victor, dammit, go to bed. You’re sposedta be on vacation. Take a break from this blog too eh?
I hope 2007 was a nifty year for you. I, personally, rank it in the bottom third of my life - but, we know I throw pity parties, so the view could be slightly slanted! I’m alive and in love with the thought, create a better 2008.
Love, Victurd
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Nothing prophetic…
Christmas ramblings…
I’m 55... Other than organizing a few softball tournaments for Juvenile Diabetes back in the 70’s/80’s, I’ve never volunteered in my life. A shame eh?
For whom the bell tolls… Last night, for 90 minutes, I was a bell ringer for the red kettle folks. It actually was kinda a neat experience..
Announced to the older couple “I’m your relief”, they thanked me - draped the red SA apron over me - and told me “Tessie” would be there to pickup the kettle at 6pm. We smiled, offered “Merry Christmas” back-n-forth, and on they went.
Oh hell. Was Tessie the name they used? Should I have the chutzpah to ask whomever picks up the kettle “what’s your name? And how do I know you work for SA.” I mean there’s hella worse crime going on in the US… something like that could happen…
Bells will be ringing... My first contributor, long about five minutes into it, a gent about my age, jeans, old coat - neatly folded a five dollar bill, plunked it in and wished me Merry Christmas. Cool.
Lady carrying 2 and ½ yr old. Dug into her pocket book… Fist fulla change. “Do you wanna put it in?” she asked the tike. Yep. The kettle was jussst beyond her reach, so momma lifted her up, and one by one she dropped in pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters…”Hurry honey, we’re gonna be late for church.”
As I stood, I didn’t know whether to make eye contact or not with folks. I didn’t want them to feel obligated - because goodness knows I’ve experienced “damn I’d liketa, but if you only knew”.. Nonetheless, as the time extended, I found it fun to wing a smile to each and every comer. Figure the more smiles one gives, the more one receives… and actually, it wasn’t me whose idea that was… it was the customer’s idea… as I was given smiles as they walked in the door. Many offered “Merry Christmas.”
The givers were a unique mix.. A store clerk who probably was making $7-something an hour, sharing a $500 apartment, for sure keeping the temp in the place at or near 60 degrees… “let me get my money” - and she too dropped in a five dollar bill.
Tough guy and his brother... Leather jackets.. The tough guy gave a dollar… started to walk away - turned and folded up another George… Beautiful 20-something gal... Dropped a buck as she went in.... and on her way out she plopped in the change from her purchase…
Young couple walking in... I could see her saying something to him.. He dug for his wallet... Handed her the George… “Thanks ma’am, Merry Christmas.” People gave with smiles.
I do always try to give - but admittedly it’s change… reckon it ads up.. The SA does wonderful things allover the world. Many were oblivious - but too many too offered up “Merry Christmas”…
Then, a gorgeous mom and her teenage snotnose walked in… I turned to catch the view from the other side… then I remembered “you dumbass, you’re a volunteer here.. NOT a very good example.” So, face now kettle red, back to jingling. (For the record, the view from the other side was equally as spectacular!)
5:54pm. Soon, Tammy would come to get the kettle. Or was it Tessa… or Tonya… dammit..
Up drives an older, tall early 60’s lady in a minivan.. Churchly looking… You can’t pull one on me lady... I’ve heard about gramma’s robbing banks. Tell me your name, and it GD (gosh darn, gotma red SA vest on) BETTER start with a T.
“Hi I’m Mrs She-said-some-last-name”… Uh huh. “Thank your for your time… I’m going to take the kettle now.” Is your name Tessie? “No, it’s she-said-some-other-first-name.” Well, reckon I haveta trust... She started unscrewing the contraption, as if she knew what she was doing. So I helped carry the thing to her van… she plopped open the back end… there were twenty other red kettles… so I figured either she was legit, or she was the richest grandma this sidea Johnson County.
5:57pm. I felt good about myself for the first time in a long time. Then, evil set back in. “YES! My favorite little establishment doesn’t close until 6:30pm… I’ve got time for ‘one’, and to wish all my buds a Merry Christmas!!…. Gee I hope no one that plopped a quarter in comes in whilst I’m in there.”
Life ain’t perfect. I ain’t perfect. For 90 minutes I actually liked Victor. I’d liketa do more good somewhere, someday, sometime….. Hiccup.
Jumbled Jingle Bells.. Jumbled Jingle Bells.. Jumbled Jingle Bells all the way… Next year, I’m adding “I am gonna go Christmas Caroling to old folks homes, older loved ones, etc.” to my New Years Resolution list.
Brb. Going to make a snow angel. (That, on 2007 list).. Then, when it gets dark, gonna pee my name in the snow. That too on list. Good thing name’s Vic insteada Ebenezer… bar was only open for 30 minutes.. Don’t think I could pee that longa name.
I hope your Christmas has been jolly - and that you winged smiles, and received them twofold. And if you got caught under the mistletoe, it’s my hope you were nakey. Hehe. Merry Christmas, I loveya, Victurd.
I’m 55... Other than organizing a few softball tournaments for Juvenile Diabetes back in the 70’s/80’s, I’ve never volunteered in my life. A shame eh?
For whom the bell tolls… Last night, for 90 minutes, I was a bell ringer for the red kettle folks. It actually was kinda a neat experience..
Announced to the older couple “I’m your relief”, they thanked me - draped the red SA apron over me - and told me “Tessie” would be there to pickup the kettle at 6pm. We smiled, offered “Merry Christmas” back-n-forth, and on they went.
Oh hell. Was Tessie the name they used? Should I have the chutzpah to ask whomever picks up the kettle “what’s your name? And how do I know you work for SA.” I mean there’s hella worse crime going on in the US… something like that could happen…
Bells will be ringing... My first contributor, long about five minutes into it, a gent about my age, jeans, old coat - neatly folded a five dollar bill, plunked it in and wished me Merry Christmas. Cool.
Lady carrying 2 and ½ yr old. Dug into her pocket book… Fist fulla change. “Do you wanna put it in?” she asked the tike. Yep. The kettle was jussst beyond her reach, so momma lifted her up, and one by one she dropped in pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters…”Hurry honey, we’re gonna be late for church.”
As I stood, I didn’t know whether to make eye contact or not with folks. I didn’t want them to feel obligated - because goodness knows I’ve experienced “damn I’d liketa, but if you only knew”.. Nonetheless, as the time extended, I found it fun to wing a smile to each and every comer. Figure the more smiles one gives, the more one receives… and actually, it wasn’t me whose idea that was… it was the customer’s idea… as I was given smiles as they walked in the door. Many offered “Merry Christmas.”
The givers were a unique mix.. A store clerk who probably was making $7-something an hour, sharing a $500 apartment, for sure keeping the temp in the place at or near 60 degrees… “let me get my money” - and she too dropped in a five dollar bill.
Tough guy and his brother... Leather jackets.. The tough guy gave a dollar… started to walk away - turned and folded up another George… Beautiful 20-something gal... Dropped a buck as she went in.... and on her way out she plopped in the change from her purchase…
Young couple walking in... I could see her saying something to him.. He dug for his wallet... Handed her the George… “Thanks ma’am, Merry Christmas.” People gave with smiles.
I do always try to give - but admittedly it’s change… reckon it ads up.. The SA does wonderful things allover the world. Many were oblivious - but too many too offered up “Merry Christmas”…
Then, a gorgeous mom and her teenage snotnose walked in… I turned to catch the view from the other side… then I remembered “you dumbass, you’re a volunteer here.. NOT a very good example.” So, face now kettle red, back to jingling. (For the record, the view from the other side was equally as spectacular!)
5:54pm. Soon, Tammy would come to get the kettle. Or was it Tessa… or Tonya… dammit..
Up drives an older, tall early 60’s lady in a minivan.. Churchly looking… You can’t pull one on me lady... I’ve heard about gramma’s robbing banks. Tell me your name, and it GD (gosh darn, gotma red SA vest on) BETTER start with a T.
“Hi I’m Mrs She-said-some-last-name”… Uh huh. “Thank your for your time… I’m going to take the kettle now.” Is your name Tessie? “No, it’s she-said-some-other-first-name.” Well, reckon I haveta trust... She started unscrewing the contraption, as if she knew what she was doing. So I helped carry the thing to her van… she plopped open the back end… there were twenty other red kettles… so I figured either she was legit, or she was the richest grandma this sidea Johnson County.
5:57pm. I felt good about myself for the first time in a long time. Then, evil set back in. “YES! My favorite little establishment doesn’t close until 6:30pm… I’ve got time for ‘one’, and to wish all my buds a Merry Christmas!!…. Gee I hope no one that plopped a quarter in comes in whilst I’m in there.”
Life ain’t perfect. I ain’t perfect. For 90 minutes I actually liked Victor. I’d liketa do more good somewhere, someday, sometime….. Hiccup.
Jumbled Jingle Bells.. Jumbled Jingle Bells.. Jumbled Jingle Bells all the way… Next year, I’m adding “I am gonna go Christmas Caroling to old folks homes, older loved ones, etc.” to my New Years Resolution list.
Brb. Going to make a snow angel. (That, on 2007 list).. Then, when it gets dark, gonna pee my name in the snow. That too on list. Good thing name’s Vic insteada Ebenezer… bar was only open for 30 minutes.. Don’t think I could pee that longa name.
I hope your Christmas has been jolly - and that you winged smiles, and received them twofold. And if you got caught under the mistletoe, it’s my hope you were nakey. Hehe. Merry Christmas, I loveya, Victurd.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Ev'rywhere you go;
Foreclosures are at an all time high… The middle class is.. Well, is it even?… The Snow geese are fat and are flying South… The skies are gray… Morning windshields frosty…
Take a look in the five and ten glistening once again
With candy canes and silver lanes aglow. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Toys in ev'ry store
Lines are long at Wally World… Hell, even the line to Customer Service is backlogged, and the gifts ain’t even been given so they could be returned yet..
But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be
On your own front door.
Crap, that reminds me. Onea my resolutions was to have a tree up this year. Ok, I promise. TODAY.
A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots
Is the wish of Barney and Ben;
Be for real Johnny Mathis. It’s the $149 TMX Elmo that is already selling out as fast as they hit the shelves. This Elmo takes laughing to a whole new level. When one of his three tickles spots are touched he begins to laugh and slap his leg. Then when he is touched again he falls to the ground laughing and kicking his feet. He even rolls over onto his stomach and hit’s the floor while laughing. Or mebbe the Wii ($249) the X Box 260 Elite ($449.99) or the PS3 60GB ($599). No! No! I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle! That’ll be $44.99 Ralphie…
Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk
Is the hope of Janice and Jen;
Yeah, I guess. Now it’s the Hanna Montana Doll (Cheap at $19.99... Add her stage for $59.99).. The Disney High School Musical Dolls ($36.99 to $44.95)
And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
That was Bah-humbug Johnny. But I guess it’s true.. I just drove by the sign at our local elementary school. “Winter Break December 22nd thru January 3rd.” Ouch.
There's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well,
The sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow.
I’M GOIN’, I’M GOIN’ DAMMIT!
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas;
Soon the bells will start,
And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart.
Ok, I did my part. I FORCED Willie Nelson’s Christmas CD on co-workers… Played Don’s Barking Dog’s Jingle Bells for good measure. Carolers? When’s the last time you had carolers knock on your door? (I think it’d be fun to do though)..
Yeah, I know. Kinda bah humbug myself. Shouldn’t be. I love this timea year. I love thought out gifts. I love (even though I cuss it) winter. I love a kid on a sled. A frisky steam-spouting happy dog on a walk. Nervous last minute shoppers at the Mall.. Any kinda warm drink.. Excitement to see family ya ain’t seen in awhile. Reliving yesteryear. Kids waking at 4:45am 12/25. The mess on the floor after opening. The email about exactly how the tradition of the angel at the top of the tree originated.
Twinkly lights. Twinkly eyes. Twink ß son’s nickname long ago. Christmas ain’t about money. It’s about celebrating life. Family. Friends. It’s Ralphie. Ebenezer. It’s Johnny Mathis, Bing Crosby, Gene Autry, Ella Fitzgerald (Baby it‘s cold outside), even Alvin and the Chipmonks.
It’s a respite for the every day worker, unless you‘re gainfully employed by QT, Dennys or Waffle House. It makes grumpy people temporarily happy. It puts kids in the constant “I’m gonna pee my pants” mode. It’s layered clothing, trays of baked goodies, a table for two now serving twelve.
Going to get that tree now. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. Love, Victurd.
Foreclosures are at an all time high… The middle class is.. Well, is it even?… The Snow geese are fat and are flying South… The skies are gray… Morning windshields frosty…
Take a look in the five and ten glistening once again
With candy canes and silver lanes aglow. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Toys in ev'ry store
Lines are long at Wally World… Hell, even the line to Customer Service is backlogged, and the gifts ain’t even been given so they could be returned yet..
But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be
On your own front door.
Crap, that reminds me. Onea my resolutions was to have a tree up this year. Ok, I promise. TODAY.
A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots
Is the wish of Barney and Ben;
Be for real Johnny Mathis. It’s the $149 TMX Elmo that is already selling out as fast as they hit the shelves. This Elmo takes laughing to a whole new level. When one of his three tickles spots are touched he begins to laugh and slap his leg. Then when he is touched again he falls to the ground laughing and kicking his feet. He even rolls over onto his stomach and hit’s the floor while laughing. Or mebbe the Wii ($249) the X Box 260 Elite ($449.99) or the PS3 60GB ($599). No! No! I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle! That’ll be $44.99 Ralphie…
Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk
Is the hope of Janice and Jen;
Yeah, I guess. Now it’s the Hanna Montana Doll (Cheap at $19.99... Add her stage for $59.99).. The Disney High School Musical Dolls ($36.99 to $44.95)
And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
That was Bah-humbug Johnny. But I guess it’s true.. I just drove by the sign at our local elementary school. “Winter Break December 22nd thru January 3rd.” Ouch.
There's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well,
The sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow.
I’M GOIN’, I’M GOIN’ DAMMIT!
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas;
Soon the bells will start,
And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart.
Ok, I did my part. I FORCED Willie Nelson’s Christmas CD on co-workers… Played Don’s Barking Dog’s Jingle Bells for good measure. Carolers? When’s the last time you had carolers knock on your door? (I think it’d be fun to do though)..
Yeah, I know. Kinda bah humbug myself. Shouldn’t be. I love this timea year. I love thought out gifts. I love (even though I cuss it) winter. I love a kid on a sled. A frisky steam-spouting happy dog on a walk. Nervous last minute shoppers at the Mall.. Any kinda warm drink.. Excitement to see family ya ain’t seen in awhile. Reliving yesteryear. Kids waking at 4:45am 12/25. The mess on the floor after opening. The email about exactly how the tradition of the angel at the top of the tree originated.
Twinkly lights. Twinkly eyes. Twink ß son’s nickname long ago. Christmas ain’t about money. It’s about celebrating life. Family. Friends. It’s Ralphie. Ebenezer. It’s Johnny Mathis, Bing Crosby, Gene Autry, Ella Fitzgerald (Baby it‘s cold outside), even Alvin and the Chipmonks.
It’s a respite for the every day worker, unless you‘re gainfully employed by QT, Dennys or Waffle House. It makes grumpy people temporarily happy. It puts kids in the constant “I’m gonna pee my pants” mode. It’s layered clothing, trays of baked goodies, a table for two now serving twelve.
Going to get that tree now. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. Love, Victurd.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Whatever floats ur boat….
What floats ur boat? Reading about Reid and Soanya (eh, if you don’t know, too late in the game to describe)… but their boat is floated by mainsails, staysails, foresails, and Reid is continually fixing them, adjusting them, raising them, lowering them, pulling them in.. I no comprende sailor genre - but, it’s an interesting read, ole Reid.
When you wakeup in the am… what do you look forward to? Is there anything you can’t wait for? If something enduring was taken away - would your boat sink?
Everyday highlights for me, the simpleton. Waking my contentious sleeping son as gingerly and as happily as I can so the lion doesn’t roar.
Driving to say “hey” to Annette, grab my 20 ounce coffee, a baga salted peanuts, and however GD much gas the going rate is to drive round trip Liberty to Grandview. (We’re currently at $11.50/day in the Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln.)
Do you wakeup and haveta watch such-n-sucha news channel? I love Joel Nichols sense of humore - but it’s not a haveto… Usually, I’m here… Catching up on Yahoo, Hotmail, and CNN…
Does the morning bath/shower float ur boat? I will admit, whilst I’m hurried, (I’m a bath person) I LOVE my morning baths… Sit back like the King of England… Ensconced in luxury.. Dreaming of deity.. It’s a good feel…
Emails float my boat… A cyber nerd? Yeah, prolly. I see it as a ‘touch’ though… Life is all about touching, and emails are a ‘touch’ - even if the click to add your name is only a millisecond.. For that millisecond.. Eyes, thoughts are on you…
Pets float my boat… I’d give my right arm and left nut to be considered a creative writer - but I will never match the ‘creative sleeping’ of Jackson… my ole’ Maine Coon cat. Waking up is like “Where’s Waldo?”.. on the sofa embedded in three blankies?… on the loveseat sunk inbetween somewhere between the pillow and the armrest?… in the empty cardboard box in the kitchen?… a good ole shake of the food sack lends assistance to where he’s “motel”ed it last night…
People watching en route to work.. Eye-makeup putter onners… Cell phone addicts.. “Drive like Kendra’s” types (I just robbed a bank, get the F outta my way).. Low-riders… u know, the dudes that have their seats leaning back so far, you simply can’t imagine their eyeballs being able to see over the dash…
Regular ole regular shit at work… Same bunch at the pre-work smoke break.. Learning about each other’s lives… “Did you see _____ last night?” And if we didn’t, they’ll fill us in…
The differences in folks… Take a look around.. Yes, even look in the mirror.. There’s some weird sumbitches out there.. Perhaps us included… Rough to walk a mile in some shoes - but fun to observe and imagine from the sidelines…
COOKED FOOD. You’d have to be a bachelor to understand.. And COOKED FOOD does not include: Banquet meals, hot dogs, frozen chicken nuggets, frozen burritos, Chef Boyardee Ravioli, Frozen waffles, yada yada yada.
I’m talking sit down, read the menu, have that shit brought to you. As you like it. Breakfast at lunch. The BBQ beef special at the place the gay men own.. The Numero Dos at Jose’s place.. Food, as I like it, floats my boat.
Smiles on others, floats my boat. Smiles on others, when times are tough, floats my boat like onea those GD Florida bigass fan swamp boats that literally lifts up off the water…
I could go on and on and bore you s’more… so I will… hehe…
A sweet golf drive when u hit that sumbitch JUST right… YES!
Being lucky enough, as I was yesterday, to catch the wonderful “There is a God” purple/blue/light orange sunrise… and then see that crap allover again in the Western sky on the way home.
Getting home is a boat floater… Calm. Peaceful. “Whew.. I’m there.”
Staying up until the bod/eyes tell you - it’s time to call this a day… Ahhhh, landing in that bed.. No bosses to say “do this”… no “have to’s” to be done… Reaching the point “eh, if I’ve forgotten something today I was supposed to do - it’s Ok.. Life is long (we hope).. I’ll do that shit Friday.. Or mebbe Sunday..
A dog’s devotion, excitement.. An email from family… hearing the word “love”… seeing an incredibly athletic play on TV… seeing an incredible butt, no matter the venue.. Catching your favorite food on sale at the Piggly Wiggly… finding a penny head’s up… Hearing “thank you” from a friend… “Thanking” a friend…
Sex. Ok, call me a pervert if u like. If it doesn’t float your boat - then u must be the leading candidate for the Democratic office of the President.
Sunshine. A good read. A cig when ya ain’t had one in awhile.. Seeing an old friend.. Doing something small, but helpful and getting thanked. Someone doing something small, but helpful, and thanking them…
Gatherings… Gatherings float my boat.. Be it a work party.. A party arranged by co-workers.. A party of all similar types at the local establishment.. A family gathering…
Alone time. I enjoy alone. I’m never really ‘alone.’ I always think of people, imagine what’s going thru their brain.. Be it Brittany’s now Prego 16 yr old sister, or, the server at the local establishment… mebbe even the guy behind the counter at Phillips 66 who works overnights - and never ever is without a smile..
Yesteryear. (GD Victor, we’ve witnessed that one. It’s like you ain’t hearda GPS and you’re stuck in the 60’s/70’s).. yeah baby, that works.. ‘twas a great time.. It floated my boat.
Victor, you’re rambling. Thanks. Bitchslaps float my boat. I hate being thought of as hideous. Rambling. Boring. Too GD philosophical.
It’s my hope, as you read the stupid stuff that daily floats my boat - that you as well perhaps gained a greater appreciation for daily crap that floats your boat. Boat floating is an upper.
We go thru life adjusting our mainsails, staysails and foresails.. But do we appreciate the ride of our floating boat? I admit, sometimes I forget. Hey, let’s makea pact. That shit we enjoy, and mebbe take for granted. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we won’t. We’ll form even bigger ass wrinkles on our face from enjoying the moment.
Thanks… thanks for being here.. Your eyeballs float my… eh, I know, it’s beddy-by time.. Loveya, Victurd.
When you wakeup in the am… what do you look forward to? Is there anything you can’t wait for? If something enduring was taken away - would your boat sink?
Everyday highlights for me, the simpleton. Waking my contentious sleeping son as gingerly and as happily as I can so the lion doesn’t roar.
Driving to say “hey” to Annette, grab my 20 ounce coffee, a baga salted peanuts, and however GD much gas the going rate is to drive round trip Liberty to Grandview. (We’re currently at $11.50/day in the Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln.)
Do you wakeup and haveta watch such-n-sucha news channel? I love Joel Nichols sense of humore - but it’s not a haveto… Usually, I’m here… Catching up on Yahoo, Hotmail, and CNN…
Does the morning bath/shower float ur boat? I will admit, whilst I’m hurried, (I’m a bath person) I LOVE my morning baths… Sit back like the King of England… Ensconced in luxury.. Dreaming of deity.. It’s a good feel…
Emails float my boat… A cyber nerd? Yeah, prolly. I see it as a ‘touch’ though… Life is all about touching, and emails are a ‘touch’ - even if the click to add your name is only a millisecond.. For that millisecond.. Eyes, thoughts are on you…
Pets float my boat… I’d give my right arm and left nut to be considered a creative writer - but I will never match the ‘creative sleeping’ of Jackson… my ole’ Maine Coon cat. Waking up is like “Where’s Waldo?”.. on the sofa embedded in three blankies?… on the loveseat sunk inbetween somewhere between the pillow and the armrest?… in the empty cardboard box in the kitchen?… a good ole shake of the food sack lends assistance to where he’s “motel”ed it last night…
People watching en route to work.. Eye-makeup putter onners… Cell phone addicts.. “Drive like Kendra’s” types (I just robbed a bank, get the F outta my way).. Low-riders… u know, the dudes that have their seats leaning back so far, you simply can’t imagine their eyeballs being able to see over the dash…
Regular ole regular shit at work… Same bunch at the pre-work smoke break.. Learning about each other’s lives… “Did you see _____ last night?” And if we didn’t, they’ll fill us in…
The differences in folks… Take a look around.. Yes, even look in the mirror.. There’s some weird sumbitches out there.. Perhaps us included… Rough to walk a mile in some shoes - but fun to observe and imagine from the sidelines…
COOKED FOOD. You’d have to be a bachelor to understand.. And COOKED FOOD does not include: Banquet meals, hot dogs, frozen chicken nuggets, frozen burritos, Chef Boyardee Ravioli, Frozen waffles, yada yada yada.
I’m talking sit down, read the menu, have that shit brought to you. As you like it. Breakfast at lunch. The BBQ beef special at the place the gay men own.. The Numero Dos at Jose’s place.. Food, as I like it, floats my boat.
Smiles on others, floats my boat. Smiles on others, when times are tough, floats my boat like onea those GD Florida bigass fan swamp boats that literally lifts up off the water…
I could go on and on and bore you s’more… so I will… hehe…
A sweet golf drive when u hit that sumbitch JUST right… YES!
Being lucky enough, as I was yesterday, to catch the wonderful “There is a God” purple/blue/light orange sunrise… and then see that crap allover again in the Western sky on the way home.
Getting home is a boat floater… Calm. Peaceful. “Whew.. I’m there.”
Staying up until the bod/eyes tell you - it’s time to call this a day… Ahhhh, landing in that bed.. No bosses to say “do this”… no “have to’s” to be done… Reaching the point “eh, if I’ve forgotten something today I was supposed to do - it’s Ok.. Life is long (we hope).. I’ll do that shit Friday.. Or mebbe Sunday..
A dog’s devotion, excitement.. An email from family… hearing the word “love”… seeing an incredibly athletic play on TV… seeing an incredible butt, no matter the venue.. Catching your favorite food on sale at the Piggly Wiggly… finding a penny head’s up… Hearing “thank you” from a friend… “Thanking” a friend…
Sex. Ok, call me a pervert if u like. If it doesn’t float your boat - then u must be the leading candidate for the Democratic office of the President.
Sunshine. A good read. A cig when ya ain’t had one in awhile.. Seeing an old friend.. Doing something small, but helpful and getting thanked. Someone doing something small, but helpful, and thanking them…
Gatherings… Gatherings float my boat.. Be it a work party.. A party arranged by co-workers.. A party of all similar types at the local establishment.. A family gathering…
Alone time. I enjoy alone. I’m never really ‘alone.’ I always think of people, imagine what’s going thru their brain.. Be it Brittany’s now Prego 16 yr old sister, or, the server at the local establishment… mebbe even the guy behind the counter at Phillips 66 who works overnights - and never ever is without a smile..
Yesteryear. (GD Victor, we’ve witnessed that one. It’s like you ain’t hearda GPS and you’re stuck in the 60’s/70’s).. yeah baby, that works.. ‘twas a great time.. It floated my boat.
Victor, you’re rambling. Thanks. Bitchslaps float my boat. I hate being thought of as hideous. Rambling. Boring. Too GD philosophical.
It’s my hope, as you read the stupid stuff that daily floats my boat - that you as well perhaps gained a greater appreciation for daily crap that floats your boat. Boat floating is an upper.
We go thru life adjusting our mainsails, staysails and foresails.. But do we appreciate the ride of our floating boat? I admit, sometimes I forget. Hey, let’s makea pact. That shit we enjoy, and mebbe take for granted. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we won’t. We’ll form even bigger ass wrinkles on our face from enjoying the moment.
Thanks… thanks for being here.. Your eyeballs float my… eh, I know, it’s beddy-by time.. Loveya, Victurd.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Message in a bottle….
Just a castaway
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
No one here but me
More loneliness than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair
I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle
Message in a bottle
Thanks Police… kinda….
Times of distress… Victor, are you going to continue this trip thru the mortuary of life forever and ever? No. Good times are ahead. Better is ahead. Bad begets good, remember?
Monday night. Father, three children, ages 18, 14, 12. Northern California (‘bout 90 miles North of Sacramento.)… Set out into the mountains to chop down a Christmas tree… Mother of the three (divorced from father) became worried late Monday night - reported them missing.
Snow. Bad storm. If you got 50 yards away from your car, you may not be able to even see it. Police vehicles, equipped with chains - attempted to find them. Private citizens joined in the fray. “A good family…. Well liked… respected.”…
Two days went by… Finally, Wednesday… A helicopter had spotted the “H-E-L-P” they’d fashioned with twigs on a 4-wheel drive road… led to their rescue… Tootsies a little worse for wear, but all Ok………..
----------------------
Kristin Comeau taught her daughter sign language. Unusual? No. Unusual though in this case because the daughter was three years of age…
One night, mom began to cough uncontrollably and have difficulty breathing on Wednesday. The Long Island mother dialed 911, but her throat closed up and prevented her from speaking when the operator answered.
Comeau, who had taught her daughter, Ruby, sign language as a hobby, said she signed the word “help” to her daughter, and the little girl repeated it to the 911 operator. Ruby also gave the operator her address, as she had been taught by her father…
-----------------------------
SOS is the commonly used description for the International Morse code distress signal (· · · — — — · · ·). This distress signal was first adopted by the German government in radio regulations effective April 1, 1905, and became the worldwide standard when it was included in the second International Radiotelegraphic Convention, which was signed on November 3, 1906, and became effective on July 1, 1908.
My father was a Morse Code expert communicator kinda dude in the Army Air Corp around the time of World War II… He prided himself in ‘tapping’ out stuff… If my sense of humor is inherited, in later years he was probably tapping out “hey lady, wanna run upstairs with me and do the dirty” unbeknownst to us urchins. I can’t imagine being an expert at anything at age 22 (except life of course) but he was…
They put out an SOS one night for him to “get ready’… time to go.. Europe… Grab your hard helmet. He was legally off-base on R&R. Seems they fetched another dude in his place.
----------------------------------------
The hell’s all this mean Victor? I dunno dammit, I’m just sitting here typing waiting for that answer myself… The Beatles sang “Help… I need somebody… Help… not just anybody.”…
Dude on corner with cardboard sign. “Please help… hungry.”
“Help wanted” signs…
Save our ship.. Save our souls.. Survivors on shore… Save our Shelby..
----------------------------------------------
It’s all about being thankful. Thankful for search parties… Rescuers.. Twigs… Sign language… Friends… Concern… Care… Love… Offerings…
Thankful for every day, every minute. Every day in the obits, there are those that can no longer twig HELP. They can’t · · · — — — · · · They can’t put a “message in a bottle.”
Ok, I’ll get the hell outta here. Just wanna share some observances though. I’ve seen me a couple SOS’s in my day… And here and there a plea for “HELP”… people respond. People you don’t know. People you love. People unite. People assist. People love. People want nothing in return. Amazing. Everyone gets assistance… Well, perhaps exceptin’ Gilligan, the Skipper, the Professor and MaryAnne…
Message in a blogle…….
May your Thursday be twice as happy as your Wednesday… may your dinner time meal be loads better than SOS… If you are helped in life… you’ll know what I mean then it kinda makes ya wanna help back. People are incredible eh?
Twigging “Good night, sweet dreams” to you……. Love, Victurd.
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
No one here but me
More loneliness than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair
I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle
Message in a bottle
Thanks Police… kinda….
Times of distress… Victor, are you going to continue this trip thru the mortuary of life forever and ever? No. Good times are ahead. Better is ahead. Bad begets good, remember?
Monday night. Father, three children, ages 18, 14, 12. Northern California (‘bout 90 miles North of Sacramento.)… Set out into the mountains to chop down a Christmas tree… Mother of the three (divorced from father) became worried late Monday night - reported them missing.
Snow. Bad storm. If you got 50 yards away from your car, you may not be able to even see it. Police vehicles, equipped with chains - attempted to find them. Private citizens joined in the fray. “A good family…. Well liked… respected.”…
Two days went by… Finally, Wednesday… A helicopter had spotted the “H-E-L-P” they’d fashioned with twigs on a 4-wheel drive road… led to their rescue… Tootsies a little worse for wear, but all Ok………..
----------------------
Kristin Comeau taught her daughter sign language. Unusual? No. Unusual though in this case because the daughter was three years of age…
One night, mom began to cough uncontrollably and have difficulty breathing on Wednesday. The Long Island mother dialed 911, but her throat closed up and prevented her from speaking when the operator answered.
Comeau, who had taught her daughter, Ruby, sign language as a hobby, said she signed the word “help” to her daughter, and the little girl repeated it to the 911 operator. Ruby also gave the operator her address, as she had been taught by her father…
-----------------------------
SOS is the commonly used description for the International Morse code distress signal (· · · — — — · · ·). This distress signal was first adopted by the German government in radio regulations effective April 1, 1905, and became the worldwide standard when it was included in the second International Radiotelegraphic Convention, which was signed on November 3, 1906, and became effective on July 1, 1908.
My father was a Morse Code expert communicator kinda dude in the Army Air Corp around the time of World War II… He prided himself in ‘tapping’ out stuff… If my sense of humor is inherited, in later years he was probably tapping out “hey lady, wanna run upstairs with me and do the dirty” unbeknownst to us urchins. I can’t imagine being an expert at anything at age 22 (except life of course) but he was…
They put out an SOS one night for him to “get ready’… time to go.. Europe… Grab your hard helmet. He was legally off-base on R&R. Seems they fetched another dude in his place.
----------------------------------------
The hell’s all this mean Victor? I dunno dammit, I’m just sitting here typing waiting for that answer myself… The Beatles sang “Help… I need somebody… Help… not just anybody.”…
Dude on corner with cardboard sign. “Please help… hungry.”
“Help wanted” signs…
Save our ship.. Save our souls.. Survivors on shore… Save our Shelby..
----------------------------------------------
It’s all about being thankful. Thankful for search parties… Rescuers.. Twigs… Sign language… Friends… Concern… Care… Love… Offerings…
Thankful for every day, every minute. Every day in the obits, there are those that can no longer twig HELP. They can’t · · · — — — · · · They can’t put a “message in a bottle.”
Ok, I’ll get the hell outta here. Just wanna share some observances though. I’ve seen me a couple SOS’s in my day… And here and there a plea for “HELP”… people respond. People you don’t know. People you love. People unite. People assist. People love. People want nothing in return. Amazing. Everyone gets assistance… Well, perhaps exceptin’ Gilligan, the Skipper, the Professor and MaryAnne…
Message in a blogle…….
May your Thursday be twice as happy as your Wednesday… may your dinner time meal be loads better than SOS… If you are helped in life… you’ll know what I mean then it kinda makes ya wanna help back. People are incredible eh?
Twigging “Good night, sweet dreams” to you……. Love, Victurd.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Life’s Tasers….
Life always has bumps and swerves… curves and turns.. valleys and mountains…
Most of us… when there ain’t nothing dire going on, are milked into feeling (upon occasion) “oh shit… why me?”… “I hate this (job, car, drive, coworker, outfit, food, price of gas, movie, TV show, sermon, color, style, song, event, outing, “have to”, bed, belly, tub, sink, closet, clutter, house, neighborhood)……….. All kindsa shit.
We moan. We groan. It’s important. It’s right infronta us. It’s a priority. It’s essential. It’s now.
And thena life Taser hits you - and after the initial shock - you gain a new/great appreciation.
Death is a Taser to those left. We revisit the photo albums, the videotapes, the DVD’s.. We takea sniff of their cologne, perfume.. We keep an article of their clothing nearby to visualize. As we walk in our shoes, we occasionally emulate them.. We miss their humor.. .their love.. their being…
Divorce is a Taser - even if you are the departed… (or so I would imagine! Never been on that end!)… The inlaws… perhaps your social club additionally… it still can be good - but it’s changed.. the little ones won’t know you as well… some even pop up after it’s over.. And the older ones can find themselves pressed for conversation in visits…
We’re Tasered by jobs… by hurtful things some say directly, or that you heard they said about you.. We’re Tasered when someone we had placed upon a pedestal, very badly slips off…
Hell Winter can be a Taser… Floods… Storms… Electricity going out…
Lack of money is a huge Taser we never think of… we can perhaps see others with nice things and be shocked with the reality “I’ll never have what they have.” “I’ll never have it easy like that.” “I’ll never go (on a cruise, to Hawaii, see Alaska, spend a night at a 5 star hotel, eat at that restaurant, etc, etc.)…
Through it all… good somehow follows… Friends sense a friend who’s been Tasered, they offer a lift up.. they lend an ear.. It makes you have a greater appreciation of having that friend, and directs you to also be a good, true friend in the future..
It’s hard to write ‘good comes after death’ - but in a roundabout way it does. You value everything a little greater.. Yes, specifically your loved ones,… but those around you… the smiles you see.. as sappy as it sounds, the Kodak moments… (no, I didn’t just get here, but, surely Kodak makes digital cameras.. no?)
Divorce is again, a shitty Taser - but it truly does give you a great appreciation for every future minute spent with another of the opposite sex…
Weather Tasers are easy to follow up on.. I LOVE THIS SUNSHINE. Can you believe the color of the trees? Low gas/electric bills in April/May… September/October.. Just having the light come on when you hit the switch is appreciated…
When something sad or bad happens to a loved one. You feel for them.. You love them even greater… When they do smile, it’s more memorable… Their touch even somehow kinda feels neater… You appreciate every minute you spend with them.. You watch them when they don’t know it… you remember back to 19-yesteryear… You revisit their life in fast forward fashion…
Good follows sad or bad. It follows death. It follows the bad in the every day shit we deal with.. Good follows crappy weather.. Good follows divorce… Good comes - even if we’re never able to start a savings account. Good comes in being poor.
Good follows life’s Tasers… Certain that’s not shocking to you… (and remember, I write to me too)… This too shall pass… Worry is like a rocking chair.. It gives you something to do but it doesn’t get you anywhere..
Life is kinda like that stupid Mole Arcade game.. Are those moles? You Tase ‘em, pound their ass, but the sumbitches keep popping right back up.. As we walk this incredible walk, so shall we.. So shall we.
Loveya, Victurd.
Most of us… when there ain’t nothing dire going on, are milked into feeling (upon occasion) “oh shit… why me?”… “I hate this (job, car, drive, coworker, outfit, food, price of gas, movie, TV show, sermon, color, style, song, event, outing, “have to”, bed, belly, tub, sink, closet, clutter, house, neighborhood)……….. All kindsa shit.
We moan. We groan. It’s important. It’s right infronta us. It’s a priority. It’s essential. It’s now.
And thena life Taser hits you - and after the initial shock - you gain a new/great appreciation.
Death is a Taser to those left. We revisit the photo albums, the videotapes, the DVD’s.. We takea sniff of their cologne, perfume.. We keep an article of their clothing nearby to visualize. As we walk in our shoes, we occasionally emulate them.. We miss their humor.. .their love.. their being…
Divorce is a Taser - even if you are the departed… (or so I would imagine! Never been on that end!)… The inlaws… perhaps your social club additionally… it still can be good - but it’s changed.. the little ones won’t know you as well… some even pop up after it’s over.. And the older ones can find themselves pressed for conversation in visits…
We’re Tasered by jobs… by hurtful things some say directly, or that you heard they said about you.. We’re Tasered when someone we had placed upon a pedestal, very badly slips off…
Hell Winter can be a Taser… Floods… Storms… Electricity going out…
Lack of money is a huge Taser we never think of… we can perhaps see others with nice things and be shocked with the reality “I’ll never have what they have.” “I’ll never have it easy like that.” “I’ll never go (on a cruise, to Hawaii, see Alaska, spend a night at a 5 star hotel, eat at that restaurant, etc, etc.)…
Through it all… good somehow follows… Friends sense a friend who’s been Tasered, they offer a lift up.. they lend an ear.. It makes you have a greater appreciation of having that friend, and directs you to also be a good, true friend in the future..
It’s hard to write ‘good comes after death’ - but in a roundabout way it does. You value everything a little greater.. Yes, specifically your loved ones,… but those around you… the smiles you see.. as sappy as it sounds, the Kodak moments… (no, I didn’t just get here, but, surely Kodak makes digital cameras.. no?)
Divorce is again, a shitty Taser - but it truly does give you a great appreciation for every future minute spent with another of the opposite sex…
Weather Tasers are easy to follow up on.. I LOVE THIS SUNSHINE. Can you believe the color of the trees? Low gas/electric bills in April/May… September/October.. Just having the light come on when you hit the switch is appreciated…
When something sad or bad happens to a loved one. You feel for them.. You love them even greater… When they do smile, it’s more memorable… Their touch even somehow kinda feels neater… You appreciate every minute you spend with them.. You watch them when they don’t know it… you remember back to 19-yesteryear… You revisit their life in fast forward fashion…
Good follows sad or bad. It follows death. It follows the bad in the every day shit we deal with.. Good follows crappy weather.. Good follows divorce… Good comes - even if we’re never able to start a savings account. Good comes in being poor.
Good follows life’s Tasers… Certain that’s not shocking to you… (and remember, I write to me too)… This too shall pass… Worry is like a rocking chair.. It gives you something to do but it doesn’t get you anywhere..
Life is kinda like that stupid Mole Arcade game.. Are those moles? You Tase ‘em, pound their ass, but the sumbitches keep popping right back up.. As we walk this incredible walk, so shall we.. So shall we.
Loveya, Victurd.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Pity parties….
I find it odd those two words are together… They are such distinct opposites… Gaiety and sorrow somehow don’t mix…
We all have them, it’s just idiots like me who share them. Some, I’ve observed, throw them pretty regularly… some, only when the steam tells you the water is now ‘for sure’ boiling.
When throwing a pity party - there are no invites, no decorations, no pomp and circumstance.. They are usually spur-a-the-moment kinda things where we ‘throw’ - and soon after we think “oh shit, why’d I do that.”
It’s kinda like sleeping with someone you are absolutely sure you don’t wanna spend the remainder of your life with ---- “it felt good at the time.”
Borrowing from the Urban Dictionary: “Alcohol might or might not be allowed (if alcohol makes you go wild, no alcohol should be brought to the pity party in that case since the point is not exactly to have fun). The purpose of a Pity Party is to dump the pity. Music is also very important at pity parties, including songs like "One is the Loneliest Number", "All by Myself" and any other song that makes you feel like throwing yourself from the nearest cliff…
(continuing) Pity parties usually end after you are done whining or if someone breaks it up. This will usually be a cynical loved one who will not let you drown in self pity and will take you either to have the best time ever, drinking and partying or will just make you crawl out of bed by making you see how pathetic you look and how you should cut the whining and just do something to make things better.”
I’ve noticed a plethora of reasons behind pity parties… co-workers.. bosses.. workload… type of work.. mates (present or former)… children, and actions thereof… money, or lack thereof.. time (not enough… spent too long.. a deadline..)… relatives… inflation… politics… athletic teams..
If you look at alla the above, it’s crap one would quite naturally have fervor for/of… so mebbe not a 100% completely bad thing… just… perhaps a proper time and place for it.. such as…
When you (borrowing from Popeye) are goin’ round with a co-worker, you reach the point “I’ve had all I can takes, and I can’t takes no more.”.. so… you grab a cig, walk outside, cuss like a mo-fo, and all is pretty much better in no time… A “silent’ pity party…
Or… perhaps you call a Sport’s talk show to bemoan the “GD” Kansas City Chiefs… your face is by now the color of your Larry Johnson jersey.. if you were to visit onea those “free blood pressure screening” thingys at the Piggly Wiggly, it might actually burst you’re so pent up with frustration… You say some stupid shit on the air to the now minuscule listening audience, and there - pity party done.
Former mate… ohhhhh these are a sonofabitch to get ridda (pity parties.)… ‘cause, you’re reminded in all kindsa different scenarios how screwed up stuff with life is and “it’s my belief it’s because you/we fugged up.. This would be a piece of cake if we were still “all good.” This pity party usually follows conversations about kids… money… hickeys.. (oops, sorry.. That was onea my specifics.. Know it’s rare!)…
Pity parties are no (close your ears) fucking fun to attend. We allow the pitiful person to pity and then we change the subject to global warming or Hillary vs. McCain… It usually takes several subjects before one is veered off path.
I couldn’t make up a deli tray if my life depended upon it… I can’t spell whore-devores let alone serve ‘em… my artistic skills for decorating are kinda “Jed Clampett” like.. Inotherwords, I ain’t a great host.
However, I’ve thrown my share of pity parties. Thank you for not winging a tray of cheese and crackers at me… I’m delighted you’ve left the streamers streaming, versus wrapping them sumbitches around my neck until I turned Chief’s red…
You sumbitches (said with love)… whenever I do throw a ‘party’ here.. You’re quick to lift… quick to show concern…
I’d mentioned, friends are like the net under the high wire act… Help you when you fall… there to uplift when we stray off course…
A few years back… I went to Renaissance Festival… there actually was a ‘high wire’ act… if performing on a high wire ain’t quite difficult enough, the sonofabitch was a comedian too.. (and very adept at both.)… He called himself “The Great Greek Tightrope Walker: Notesticles.”
Please accept this coupon for “if Victor ever ever throws another pity party, please present this coupon for the gonad of your choice.”
Borrowing now from Mr. T… I pity the fool that doesn’t enjoy life here… Love, Victurd
We all have them, it’s just idiots like me who share them. Some, I’ve observed, throw them pretty regularly… some, only when the steam tells you the water is now ‘for sure’ boiling.
When throwing a pity party - there are no invites, no decorations, no pomp and circumstance.. They are usually spur-a-the-moment kinda things where we ‘throw’ - and soon after we think “oh shit, why’d I do that.”
It’s kinda like sleeping with someone you are absolutely sure you don’t wanna spend the remainder of your life with ---- “it felt good at the time.”
Borrowing from the Urban Dictionary: “Alcohol might or might not be allowed (if alcohol makes you go wild, no alcohol should be brought to the pity party in that case since the point is not exactly to have fun). The purpose of a Pity Party is to dump the pity. Music is also very important at pity parties, including songs like "One is the Loneliest Number", "All by Myself" and any other song that makes you feel like throwing yourself from the nearest cliff…
(continuing) Pity parties usually end after you are done whining or if someone breaks it up. This will usually be a cynical loved one who will not let you drown in self pity and will take you either to have the best time ever, drinking and partying or will just make you crawl out of bed by making you see how pathetic you look and how you should cut the whining and just do something to make things better.”
I’ve noticed a plethora of reasons behind pity parties… co-workers.. bosses.. workload… type of work.. mates (present or former)… children, and actions thereof… money, or lack thereof.. time (not enough… spent too long.. a deadline..)… relatives… inflation… politics… athletic teams..
If you look at alla the above, it’s crap one would quite naturally have fervor for/of… so mebbe not a 100% completely bad thing… just… perhaps a proper time and place for it.. such as…
When you (borrowing from Popeye) are goin’ round with a co-worker, you reach the point “I’ve had all I can takes, and I can’t takes no more.”.. so… you grab a cig, walk outside, cuss like a mo-fo, and all is pretty much better in no time… A “silent’ pity party…
Or… perhaps you call a Sport’s talk show to bemoan the “GD” Kansas City Chiefs… your face is by now the color of your Larry Johnson jersey.. if you were to visit onea those “free blood pressure screening” thingys at the Piggly Wiggly, it might actually burst you’re so pent up with frustration… You say some stupid shit on the air to the now minuscule listening audience, and there - pity party done.
Former mate… ohhhhh these are a sonofabitch to get ridda (pity parties.)… ‘cause, you’re reminded in all kindsa different scenarios how screwed up stuff with life is and “it’s my belief it’s because you/we fugged up.. This would be a piece of cake if we were still “all good.” This pity party usually follows conversations about kids… money… hickeys.. (oops, sorry.. That was onea my specifics.. Know it’s rare!)…
Pity parties are no (close your ears) fucking fun to attend. We allow the pitiful person to pity and then we change the subject to global warming or Hillary vs. McCain… It usually takes several subjects before one is veered off path.
I couldn’t make up a deli tray if my life depended upon it… I can’t spell whore-devores let alone serve ‘em… my artistic skills for decorating are kinda “Jed Clampett” like.. Inotherwords, I ain’t a great host.
However, I’ve thrown my share of pity parties. Thank you for not winging a tray of cheese and crackers at me… I’m delighted you’ve left the streamers streaming, versus wrapping them sumbitches around my neck until I turned Chief’s red…
You sumbitches (said with love)… whenever I do throw a ‘party’ here.. You’re quick to lift… quick to show concern…
I’d mentioned, friends are like the net under the high wire act… Help you when you fall… there to uplift when we stray off course…
A few years back… I went to Renaissance Festival… there actually was a ‘high wire’ act… if performing on a high wire ain’t quite difficult enough, the sonofabitch was a comedian too.. (and very adept at both.)… He called himself “The Great Greek Tightrope Walker: Notesticles.”
Please accept this coupon for “if Victor ever ever throws another pity party, please present this coupon for the gonad of your choice.”
Borrowing now from Mr. T… I pity the fool that doesn’t enjoy life here… Love, Victurd
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Lonely….
I’m Mr. Lonely…
There are those times in life when two heads are better than one.. (Long story, but this is one.)
I’m Mr. Lonely…
Count your blessings… enjoy the day… even if it’s cloudy.. Snowy… Icy…
It’s “our” time…
Love, Victurd
There are those times in life when two heads are better than one.. (Long story, but this is one.)
I’m Mr. Lonely…
Count your blessings… enjoy the day… even if it’s cloudy.. Snowy… Icy…
It’s “our” time…
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
We all dream. Since we were kids, we’ve dreamed. When we’re kids - we truly believe these dreams can come true.. Lucky ones, they make them come true…
Late in school… high school… college… we have immediate dreams.. Being a parent - and what’s it’s like, how rewarding it is… We dream of “our own” house - most come to know this dream - and it’s satisfying, rewarding.. We do have those children.. We now see the view from our parent’s view, and we cherish observing the view we once had from our children’s shoes… Those dreams are relatively easy to achieve… (Admittingly trying, don’t get me wrong.)…
I know very, very few dreamers in the 30-40 year old range who have the patience and wherewithal to forge ahead in life - planning their dream for age 50, 60, 70 and beyond… Sometimes I think those kinda people forsake “living” as 30, 40-somethings.. But when they arrive at 50,60, 70 and have their wants, their wishes, their dreams - then maybe I think I’m the one that has it bassackwards…
Most, as we grow older, we become realists… The 401K is what it is (if it even is).. We’re “worked out” as far as “I wanna be this…. I’m gonna be this… I wanna do this..” We’ve done our time “wiping butts”, driving the mini van to games, sitting thru two hour programs to see the 45 second glimpse of our children whilst they’re in the spotlight… They grow, they slowly lose constant touch, need, connection… they begin their own dreams..
As we grandparent, we again find ourselves wiping butts, driving to games, sitting thru two hour programs to see the 45 seconds of fame… and if we’re lucky (I guess) our children are smart enough to plot out their lives at age 50, 60, 70 and beyond…
So what are we left to dream about now? It ain’t about having kids, we’ve done that… twice… It ain’t about the workplace - we count the friggin days, months, years until we can “get the hell outta here.”
We’re all unique.. We all dream different crap… (Gee Victor, something tells me you’re gonna share your dreams.) Why yes, yes I think I will.
I dream of meeting an equal. Someone to lean on as we both start to fall. Someone I can show a genuine interest in their day, their thoughts, their wants, their past, their future… This dream, I guess, is possible…
I look at “the clock”.. and I see mebbe twenty good years left… I didn’t demonstrate the ‘oomph’ at 30, 40-something to plan for 50,60,70 - so what makes me think at 50-something, I will keep my old bod in shape to do the shit at 70-something I wanna do? (Of course, it’s the assholes I see at the gym that are these premeditated 30, 40-somethings who will be running 5K races in the 69 and up bracket someday.)
My dreams are reasonably simple. Of course - “her”. If I could just find that dream, the RIGHT dream - I’d consider myself a lucky man.
Then… aside from many, many moments of pretending to be a GD teenager, newlywed, horndog young pup - I’d wanna share other stuff…
My stuff (stuff = dream)… travel (and OF COURSE, her stuff).. Travel as in NOT American Airlines here-to-there, rental car, this tropic, that tropic, this rental car, that spiffy hotel, this 7 utensil dinner, this “I gotta get my suit outta the cleaners”… huh uh…
My 401K is more like a 200.5k. So my idea of travel, my dream… is to just go.. Yes… perhaps have a vehicle that can double as a ‘motel’… Doesn’t have to be a 40’ Windjammer “look at me towing this Lexus, I only get 3 miles per gallon but it’s cool because I was fucking premeditated in my 30, 40-something planning, and I can afford it.” That dream never came to fruition. I wouldn’t begin to know which end of an uncut cigar to cut. I can’t spell Hylton, let alone afford to stay there.
My dream would be “hippy-ish”. Take what money is there. And go. Go as far as we can, and when we run outta money, we drop anchor. Make s’more, somehow, and go again when we feel like it. Oh, we’d carry a cell phone for those moments like “Ohhhh, we’re in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and as much as we’d love to ‘be right there’ to help, we just can’t… hope you understand.” Then we’d click the phone off, go back to many, many moments of pretending to be a GD teenager, newlywed, horndog young pup.
Where we going? When will this end? Where do we wanna be by when? I wanna meet the one that answers those questions with “like who gives a ratsass.” And then we go back to many, many moments of pretending to be a GD teenager, newlywed, horndog young pup. (The way I see it, all those missed, premeditated “plan for my fitties, sixties and seventies by spending hella time in the gym” - I’D NEED A DAMN GOOD WORKOUT DAILY. (Yes, I know the pills would be expensive, but me thinks CVS is a nationwide kinda thing.)
Key West. Cooperstown. Upstate NY. NY. The four dead guys in granite. The open far upper western US… Highway 101.. Vegas. The Grand Canyon. The Rockies.. ‘Nawlins”.. The Gulf.. The Carolina’s.. (AND OF COURSE, HER POINTS THROWN IN TOO!)... The true goal would be to indoctrinate as many CONUS as possible with many, many moments of pretending to be a GD teenager, newlywed, horndog young pup.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP, BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPP, BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP…. GD alarm clock… Huh? Wha? What day is it? Sunday? No, it’s Friday… DAMMIT.. Off I go.. Wow, that was a nice dream..
Let’s see… Eleven years from Social Security… Predicted twenty “good ones” left (The Lord willing.).. Where TF are you?
With a shout out to the Everly Brothers……..
I can make you mine, taste your lips of win Anytime night or day Only trouble is, gee whiz I'm dreamin' my life away
I need you so...that I could die... I love you so and that is why... Whenever I want you, all I have to do is Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam
I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine Anytime night or day.. Only trouble is, gee whiz I'm dreamin' my life away
I need you so that I could die.. I love you so and that is why... Whenever I want you, all I have to do is Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream …
Ahm… is sweet dream ok in closing? Love, Victurd…
Late in school… high school… college… we have immediate dreams.. Being a parent - and what’s it’s like, how rewarding it is… We dream of “our own” house - most come to know this dream - and it’s satisfying, rewarding.. We do have those children.. We now see the view from our parent’s view, and we cherish observing the view we once had from our children’s shoes… Those dreams are relatively easy to achieve… (Admittingly trying, don’t get me wrong.)…
I know very, very few dreamers in the 30-40 year old range who have the patience and wherewithal to forge ahead in life - planning their dream for age 50, 60, 70 and beyond… Sometimes I think those kinda people forsake “living” as 30, 40-somethings.. But when they arrive at 50,60, 70 and have their wants, their wishes, their dreams - then maybe I think I’m the one that has it bassackwards…
Most, as we grow older, we become realists… The 401K is what it is (if it even is).. We’re “worked out” as far as “I wanna be this…. I’m gonna be this… I wanna do this..” We’ve done our time “wiping butts”, driving the mini van to games, sitting thru two hour programs to see the 45 second glimpse of our children whilst they’re in the spotlight… They grow, they slowly lose constant touch, need, connection… they begin their own dreams..
As we grandparent, we again find ourselves wiping butts, driving to games, sitting thru two hour programs to see the 45 seconds of fame… and if we’re lucky (I guess) our children are smart enough to plot out their lives at age 50, 60, 70 and beyond…
So what are we left to dream about now? It ain’t about having kids, we’ve done that… twice… It ain’t about the workplace - we count the friggin days, months, years until we can “get the hell outta here.”
We’re all unique.. We all dream different crap… (Gee Victor, something tells me you’re gonna share your dreams.) Why yes, yes I think I will.
I dream of meeting an equal. Someone to lean on as we both start to fall. Someone I can show a genuine interest in their day, their thoughts, their wants, their past, their future… This dream, I guess, is possible…
I look at “the clock”.. and I see mebbe twenty good years left… I didn’t demonstrate the ‘oomph’ at 30, 40-something to plan for 50,60,70 - so what makes me think at 50-something, I will keep my old bod in shape to do the shit at 70-something I wanna do? (Of course, it’s the assholes I see at the gym that are these premeditated 30, 40-somethings who will be running 5K races in the 69 and up bracket someday.)
My dreams are reasonably simple. Of course - “her”. If I could just find that dream, the RIGHT dream - I’d consider myself a lucky man.
Then… aside from many, many moments of pretending to be a GD teenager, newlywed, horndog young pup - I’d wanna share other stuff…
My stuff (stuff = dream)… travel (and OF COURSE, her stuff).. Travel as in NOT American Airlines here-to-there, rental car, this tropic, that tropic, this rental car, that spiffy hotel, this 7 utensil dinner, this “I gotta get my suit outta the cleaners”… huh uh…
My 401K is more like a 200.5k. So my idea of travel, my dream… is to just go.. Yes… perhaps have a vehicle that can double as a ‘motel’… Doesn’t have to be a 40’ Windjammer “look at me towing this Lexus, I only get 3 miles per gallon but it’s cool because I was fucking premeditated in my 30, 40-something planning, and I can afford it.” That dream never came to fruition. I wouldn’t begin to know which end of an uncut cigar to cut. I can’t spell Hylton, let alone afford to stay there.
My dream would be “hippy-ish”. Take what money is there. And go. Go as far as we can, and when we run outta money, we drop anchor. Make s’more, somehow, and go again when we feel like it. Oh, we’d carry a cell phone for those moments like “Ohhhh, we’re in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and as much as we’d love to ‘be right there’ to help, we just can’t… hope you understand.” Then we’d click the phone off, go back to many, many moments of pretending to be a GD teenager, newlywed, horndog young pup.
Where we going? When will this end? Where do we wanna be by when? I wanna meet the one that answers those questions with “like who gives a ratsass.” And then we go back to many, many moments of pretending to be a GD teenager, newlywed, horndog young pup. (The way I see it, all those missed, premeditated “plan for my fitties, sixties and seventies by spending hella time in the gym” - I’D NEED A DAMN GOOD WORKOUT DAILY. (Yes, I know the pills would be expensive, but me thinks CVS is a nationwide kinda thing.)
Key West. Cooperstown. Upstate NY. NY. The four dead guys in granite. The open far upper western US… Highway 101.. Vegas. The Grand Canyon. The Rockies.. ‘Nawlins”.. The Gulf.. The Carolina’s.. (AND OF COURSE, HER POINTS THROWN IN TOO!)... The true goal would be to indoctrinate as many CONUS as possible with many, many moments of pretending to be a GD teenager, newlywed, horndog young pup.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP, BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPP, BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP…. GD alarm clock… Huh? Wha? What day is it? Sunday? No, it’s Friday… DAMMIT.. Off I go.. Wow, that was a nice dream..
Let’s see… Eleven years from Social Security… Predicted twenty “good ones” left (The Lord willing.).. Where TF are you?
With a shout out to the Everly Brothers……..
I can make you mine, taste your lips of win Anytime night or day Only trouble is, gee whiz I'm dreamin' my life away
I need you so...that I could die... I love you so and that is why... Whenever I want you, all I have to do is Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam
I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine Anytime night or day.. Only trouble is, gee whiz I'm dreamin' my life away
I need you so that I could die.. I love you so and that is why... Whenever I want you, all I have to do is Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream …
Ahm… is sweet dream ok in closing? Love, Victurd…
Monday, December 10, 2007
Ice is nice………
It’s really not, but, why throw a downer on a natural phenomenon…
I think we musta had a doozy back in the early 70’s - because I will never forget this fella I admired, (I was a Freshman, he was a Senior) looked out and stated “the ice on the trees… so beautiful to look at… reminds me of a woman.. Glorious.. But then it’ll break your back.”
Now that I’ve pissed off the vast majority who swing by here…. Now whadda I do?
Actually, ice storms CAN BE kinda cool… They force us, thru loss of power, heat, a way to work - to be inventive… They force us to spend oodles of time with another - for whom we normally spend a maximum of seven hours a day with anyways… (Get out ur calculator.. That was based on an 8 hour job… 1 hour of commuting… and 8 hours of sleep.)
I’ll never forget the last major ice storm to hit my folks house… They were lucky.. They had a fireplace… It was their source of heat, their stove, their light, and their gathering spot.
To be frank.. They were rather festive.. Assbackwards survival… A thankfulness for all we take for granted… Hot dogs were roasted… Coffee was somehow heated/made from hanging it on the damper chain… They even did popcorn… Inventive.. From the Depression.. It was a roll back into yesteryear…
We seem to enjoy outta the ordinary - be it a trip to the beach… a drive to nowhere we’ve ever seen like it… the titillation of a really really special sporting event…. Getting caught in the rain and that accompanying feel good/feel miserable mix that goes along with it…
Dumbasses (doing my best Foghorn Longhorn impression) I SAY DUMBASSES that “here we are in December… outta sick leave… outta vacation… still got bills comin’.. and faced with the option of driving on a hockey rink - or, not getting paid.”
Me, I'll be just fine and dandy, Lord it's like a hard candy Christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow, but still I won't let sorrow bring me way down… (Thanks Dolly… I hear it gets pretty icy up in the Smokies…)
I do remember… back in my “don’t worry honey, I can do this.. I’ll be just fine” days - going to the store (cause we were unprepared) to buy candles, long johns, food, pet food, batteries for the radio, a flashlight, a wind up clock, manual can opener, etc..
Kathie, and sorry to keep bringing your name up - but YOU were the one that reminded me “You’re an old sumbitch… as in… you repeat yourself.”… So, to that I say “I ain’t got the friggin’ time to search checkenginelight to see if I’ve told this one before.. So here goes…….
As I was on my way, in the ice storm to get candles, long johns, food, pet food, batteries for the radio, a flashlight, a wind up clock, manual can opener, etc - I rounded this downhill curve in my 1991 Mercury Tracer (which, for what it’s worth.. I THOUGHT was my first brand new Made-In-America car… turns out the sumbitch was made in Mexico City).. Where was I?… oh yeah… downhill, rounding corner..
I have a curve - and if I went straight, as in what could happen if I suddenly braked (insteada following the road back to the left) I’d land in a pond. A large one. When there’s ice on the road, and u see a pond, one can bet the temp in the pond is a good bit under 32 degrees.
So up walks this Canadian (goose, geese, whichever)… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO you blind bastard! Don’t you know the conditions? Don’t you know I can’t stop? What could be so fucking important you are BOUND to walk across the road to get?
Choices. Life is all about choices. Do I slam on my brakes, preserve the Canadian, and forge full speed ahead into the pond? Or do I close my eyes, make the curb… and then open them in a sec?… As I was making the curb, I’ll be damned if his neck didn’t come right over the right front headlight in a kinda flopping/snapping motion. Sorry Mr. Canadian, it was me or you.. And I gotta get candles, long johns, food, pet food, batteries for the radio, a flashlight, a wind up clock, manual can opener…
(Sorry this blog is going so slow… know it’s not all it’s quacked up to be.)
I don’t have a grand finale… All I know is…. Ice storms… whilst they suck.. ‘cause older folks to slip/fall… cars to slide.. Insurance companies to pay.. Folks to miss work… freeze their ass off at home.. Pay the piper and the plumber when everything finally thaws and the water pipes gush into our basements.. Where we realize we really friggin’ CAN make it without the internet/TV/music/etc for a few days… ice storms are ok. (If you’ve not been really hurt by them… if you have… truly I’m sorry.)
We get usedta normal.. We plod in the same ole same ole… We drive to work, yet we don’t see what all is along the way.. We wonder and and out of our loved one’s day - yet never sit for 24 hours staring at them wondering whyinthehell they haven’t noticed that long ear hair.
Meteorologists… Another reason… I think they actually are in cahoots with Piggly Wiggly.. I’ve never seen every GD aisle with a checker in there before… Channel 9 says this… Channel 5 says “no, this.”.. Channel 4 guarantees theirs… And we go to bed… Hear the freezing rain pouring down on our roof… and wonder if we’ll wakeup to no heat… no GD way to work.. No light… or… if them sumbitches misssed again….
Life… like ice storms… kinda keeps ya hoppin..
Like a kid on Christmas morning… may you jump outta bed tomorrow in great wonder… Please know - there is no truth to the wive’s tale of ‘shinkage’. Have an’ice’ evening…
Love, Victurd….
I think we musta had a doozy back in the early 70’s - because I will never forget this fella I admired, (I was a Freshman, he was a Senior) looked out and stated “the ice on the trees… so beautiful to look at… reminds me of a woman.. Glorious.. But then it’ll break your back.”
Now that I’ve pissed off the vast majority who swing by here…. Now whadda I do?
Actually, ice storms CAN BE kinda cool… They force us, thru loss of power, heat, a way to work - to be inventive… They force us to spend oodles of time with another - for whom we normally spend a maximum of seven hours a day with anyways… (Get out ur calculator.. That was based on an 8 hour job… 1 hour of commuting… and 8 hours of sleep.)
I’ll never forget the last major ice storm to hit my folks house… They were lucky.. They had a fireplace… It was their source of heat, their stove, their light, and their gathering spot.
To be frank.. They were rather festive.. Assbackwards survival… A thankfulness for all we take for granted… Hot dogs were roasted… Coffee was somehow heated/made from hanging it on the damper chain… They even did popcorn… Inventive.. From the Depression.. It was a roll back into yesteryear…
We seem to enjoy outta the ordinary - be it a trip to the beach… a drive to nowhere we’ve ever seen like it… the titillation of a really really special sporting event…. Getting caught in the rain and that accompanying feel good/feel miserable mix that goes along with it…
Dumbasses (doing my best Foghorn Longhorn impression) I SAY DUMBASSES that “here we are in December… outta sick leave… outta vacation… still got bills comin’.. and faced with the option of driving on a hockey rink - or, not getting paid.”
Me, I'll be just fine and dandy, Lord it's like a hard candy Christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow, but still I won't let sorrow bring me way down… (Thanks Dolly… I hear it gets pretty icy up in the Smokies…)
I do remember… back in my “don’t worry honey, I can do this.. I’ll be just fine” days - going to the store (cause we were unprepared) to buy candles, long johns, food, pet food, batteries for the radio, a flashlight, a wind up clock, manual can opener, etc..
Kathie, and sorry to keep bringing your name up - but YOU were the one that reminded me “You’re an old sumbitch… as in… you repeat yourself.”… So, to that I say “I ain’t got the friggin’ time to search checkenginelight to see if I’ve told this one before.. So here goes…….
As I was on my way, in the ice storm to get candles, long johns, food, pet food, batteries for the radio, a flashlight, a wind up clock, manual can opener, etc - I rounded this downhill curve in my 1991 Mercury Tracer (which, for what it’s worth.. I THOUGHT was my first brand new Made-In-America car… turns out the sumbitch was made in Mexico City).. Where was I?… oh yeah… downhill, rounding corner..
I have a curve - and if I went straight, as in what could happen if I suddenly braked (insteada following the road back to the left) I’d land in a pond. A large one. When there’s ice on the road, and u see a pond, one can bet the temp in the pond is a good bit under 32 degrees.
So up walks this Canadian (goose, geese, whichever)… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO you blind bastard! Don’t you know the conditions? Don’t you know I can’t stop? What could be so fucking important you are BOUND to walk across the road to get?
Choices. Life is all about choices. Do I slam on my brakes, preserve the Canadian, and forge full speed ahead into the pond? Or do I close my eyes, make the curb… and then open them in a sec?… As I was making the curb, I’ll be damned if his neck didn’t come right over the right front headlight in a kinda flopping/snapping motion. Sorry Mr. Canadian, it was me or you.. And I gotta get candles, long johns, food, pet food, batteries for the radio, a flashlight, a wind up clock, manual can opener…
(Sorry this blog is going so slow… know it’s not all it’s quacked up to be.)
I don’t have a grand finale… All I know is…. Ice storms… whilst they suck.. ‘cause older folks to slip/fall… cars to slide.. Insurance companies to pay.. Folks to miss work… freeze their ass off at home.. Pay the piper and the plumber when everything finally thaws and the water pipes gush into our basements.. Where we realize we really friggin’ CAN make it without the internet/TV/music/etc for a few days… ice storms are ok. (If you’ve not been really hurt by them… if you have… truly I’m sorry.)
We get usedta normal.. We plod in the same ole same ole… We drive to work, yet we don’t see what all is along the way.. We wonder and and out of our loved one’s day - yet never sit for 24 hours staring at them wondering whyinthehell they haven’t noticed that long ear hair.
Meteorologists… Another reason… I think they actually are in cahoots with Piggly Wiggly.. I’ve never seen every GD aisle with a checker in there before… Channel 9 says this… Channel 5 says “no, this.”.. Channel 4 guarantees theirs… And we go to bed… Hear the freezing rain pouring down on our roof… and wonder if we’ll wakeup to no heat… no GD way to work.. No light… or… if them sumbitches misssed again….
Life… like ice storms… kinda keeps ya hoppin..
Like a kid on Christmas morning… may you jump outta bed tomorrow in great wonder… Please know - there is no truth to the wive’s tale of ‘shinkage’. Have an’ice’ evening…
Love, Victurd….
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Chet’s nuts roasting on an open fire….
Life is fulla mis-said things… or twists to the linguistics… or stupid sayings/songs…
Wonderful radio commercial not long ago for a local station… Family driving in their soccer mom vehicle… The Beatle’s “Ticket to Ride” playing in the background… Kids, at full blare, “She’s gotta chicken to ri-ide… she’s gotta chicken to ride… and she don’t know.”
Father’s fav was… “She’s got freckles on her…. But(t) she’s pretty…
I’m probably divorced because - we always had kids around… When the brief respites happened we didn’t have kids around.. I’d throw out in my best Merle voice (over and over) “Let's chase each other 'round the room tonight.. Let's play the games we played on our wedding night.. To lock and bolt the door is only right… Let's chase each other 'round the room tonight.” It rarely worked, but I had fun with it… And, she was hella younger.. Fast.. I could never catch her.
I was bor-orn, under a wandering star… (‘cept I insert “lingering fart”… kinda adds to the situation, the song. Get used to it, it‘s me.)
Niece wanted to grow up to be a “vegetarian.” Neighbor kid with a lisp (Kathie, I KNOW I repeat crap) would always say “can I shit with you guys?”.. Ahm, no.. but that former Senator Craig from Utah might let you.
“You don’t like me any more.” Well.. I don’t like you any less…
Got dandruff, some of it itches.
De Camptown ladies sing this song, Doo-da, Doo-da
De Camptown peckers are about this long (insert holdup thumb, index finger one inch apart) Oh, de doo-da day…
(Stolen… sorry… liked it) “We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write, but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce, and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So, one moose, 2 meese? One index, two indices? Is cheese the plural of choose?
If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways?
How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? How can the weather be hot as hell one day an cold as hell another? When a house burns up, it burns down. You fill in a form by filling it out and an alarm clock goes off by going on.
When the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it?” (End of ”STOLEN”. That sonofagun should blog, he’s hella better than me.)…
And hell… stolen again (Below)… about the importance of punctuation:
Dear John:
I want a man who knows what love is all about. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. People who are not like you admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me for other men. I yearn for you. I have no feelings whatsoever when we're apart. I can be forever happy--will you let me be yours?
Gloria
Dear John:
I want a man who knows what love is. All about you are generous, kind, thoughtful people, who are not like you. Admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me. For other men, I yearn. For you, I have no feelings whatsoever. When we're apart, I can be forever happy. Will you let me be?
Yours,
Gloria
Words rock. Misquotes, changing words, moving a period, comma, here there - hells yes.
Seems like lately people love to play with fire
The other games they play are just as bad
I'd rather stay at home and feel your burning lips
And play the kind of games that make me glad
Let's don't chase around and make each other weary
Let's keep all our love at home and out of sight
Let's leave everything like jealousy behind us
And let's chase each other 'round the room tonight..
I know none of this makes sense… sorry… I was bored, and I seen the keyboard.. Please tune in tomorrow when the topic might be something like “why thongs have less material but cost hella more.” Or maybe, “why the lady in Japan divorced her Government Official hubby when he lost the erection.”
To lock and bolt the door is only right… honey let’s chase each other ‘round the room tonight..
Snuggle up… Wool socks… extra blanky.. And as I used to say to my ex (Marilyn)… “Night-Mare”..
Love, Victurd
Wonderful radio commercial not long ago for a local station… Family driving in their soccer mom vehicle… The Beatle’s “Ticket to Ride” playing in the background… Kids, at full blare, “She’s gotta chicken to ri-ide… she’s gotta chicken to ride… and she don’t know.”
Father’s fav was… “She’s got freckles on her…. But(t) she’s pretty…
I’m probably divorced because - we always had kids around… When the brief respites happened we didn’t have kids around.. I’d throw out in my best Merle voice (over and over) “Let's chase each other 'round the room tonight.. Let's play the games we played on our wedding night.. To lock and bolt the door is only right… Let's chase each other 'round the room tonight.” It rarely worked, but I had fun with it… And, she was hella younger.. Fast.. I could never catch her.
I was bor-orn, under a wandering star… (‘cept I insert “lingering fart”… kinda adds to the situation, the song. Get used to it, it‘s me.)
Niece wanted to grow up to be a “vegetarian.” Neighbor kid with a lisp (Kathie, I KNOW I repeat crap) would always say “can I shit with you guys?”.. Ahm, no.. but that former Senator Craig from Utah might let you.
“You don’t like me any more.” Well.. I don’t like you any less…
Got dandruff, some of it itches.
De Camptown ladies sing this song, Doo-da, Doo-da
De Camptown peckers are about this long (insert holdup thumb, index finger one inch apart) Oh, de doo-da day…
(Stolen… sorry… liked it) “We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write, but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce, and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So, one moose, 2 meese? One index, two indices? Is cheese the plural of choose?
If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways?
How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? How can the weather be hot as hell one day an cold as hell another? When a house burns up, it burns down. You fill in a form by filling it out and an alarm clock goes off by going on.
When the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it?” (End of ”STOLEN”. That sonofagun should blog, he’s hella better than me.)…
And hell… stolen again (Below)… about the importance of punctuation:
Dear John:
I want a man who knows what love is all about. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. People who are not like you admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me for other men. I yearn for you. I have no feelings whatsoever when we're apart. I can be forever happy--will you let me be yours?
Gloria
Dear John:
I want a man who knows what love is. All about you are generous, kind, thoughtful people, who are not like you. Admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me. For other men, I yearn. For you, I have no feelings whatsoever. When we're apart, I can be forever happy. Will you let me be?
Yours,
Gloria
Words rock. Misquotes, changing words, moving a period, comma, here there - hells yes.
Seems like lately people love to play with fire
The other games they play are just as bad
I'd rather stay at home and feel your burning lips
And play the kind of games that make me glad
Let's don't chase around and make each other weary
Let's keep all our love at home and out of sight
Let's leave everything like jealousy behind us
And let's chase each other 'round the room tonight..
I know none of this makes sense… sorry… I was bored, and I seen the keyboard.. Please tune in tomorrow when the topic might be something like “why thongs have less material but cost hella more.” Or maybe, “why the lady in Japan divorced her Government Official hubby when he lost the erection.”
To lock and bolt the door is only right… honey let’s chase each other ‘round the room tonight..
Snuggle up… Wool socks… extra blanky.. And as I used to say to my ex (Marilyn)… “Night-Mare”..
Love, Victurd
Saturday, December 08, 2007
What goes around comes around….
A friend recently emailed “I wanted to yell at you for trying to take over my position as the most self-deprecating person on the planet”…
And I spose that’s true… I guess without intent, at least consciously, I try to come across as “downity” - which is I guess contrary to “uppity.” People somehow seem at ease in these situations - and I think/hope it speaks to “please, I’m nice, I like you - and I’d enjoy your like in return.”
I have had several over the years tell me they despise “downity”, self deprecation - and that I should ‘shape up’. Choosing to react like a teenager who’s been told “don’t have sex… don’t drive the car out of town… don’t hang out with so-and-so” - I had sex, drove to the Plaza, lazed in Robert’s basement - and continued to be downity…
A lot of it comes naturally… like this GD blog. Checkenginelight reeked of downity. So I wrote about it. And in writing, I’ve noticed sometimes life, specifically in my case, resembles checkenginlight, downity, natural self-deprecation.
When I got the Hot…. Rod….. Lincoln.. - it was a feeling like I’d been treading water forever and a day, and finally I was able to pull myself outta the water - get up on the high dive, pound my chest and give it my best Tarzan impersonation. (That’s dating you Victor.) See? You self-deprecating bastard!
Sooooooooooooooo… in due time, the Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln had 12 empty McDonald’s sacks, 7 or so cigarette butts, 8 to 10 articles of clothing, an empty box, 6 days worth of mail, two empty quarts of oil, an electric shaver, hairbrush and…………..WAIT!.. Victor, you’re doing it again.. For criminy sakes can’t you keep up? Get wit the program. STAY on that high dive.
So I cleaned it. Even bought, close your ears, Armorall. Went with my buddy Kendra to a high school football game. It’s been reasonably clean since.
On the low dive now… I invited friends to lunch the other day, as in “I’ll drive.” Was shortly followed though by the tongue mostly outta cheek remark “but…. I don’t have car insurance, so, if we’re involved in an accident, you can’t sue me.” Downity. DAMMIT VICTOR!
“Is it clean?” GD! I reckon I earned it. It’s kinda like I told the bastards recently in my own written review at work (when asked for ‘potential areas of improvement’) “I know people look at my desk and smirk… Truthfully, I don’t really care… I know where each and everything is on my desk… but yes, I suppose this is an area I can improve upon.”
So we drove to lunch.. “Terry, you’ll have to unlock that door as soon as it locks because if you don’t, the door will swing open and you’ll land in the middlea Blue Ridge Boulevard. Click.
Jennifer, can you hand me that squirt bottle right there? I proceeded to roll my window down and spray the blue stuff on my windshield so I could see because the GD left side squirter is impotent. Downity. The ‘new’ Checkenginelight Hot… Rod… Lincoln.. Oh, and the “coolant low” light is stuck on, the driver’s side window now will not stay down (making for bunches of fun for the snotnoses at the drive up window at McDonalds.)
Sooooo, this (squirting the blue from my bottle) brought a chorus of laughs from the riders… but we could now see.. And were on our way.. A good lunch, nice camaraderie.. And back to the grind..
The goes around comes around part…
Not long ago I related a story about an evening ride last summer… I’ll bore you with it again:
“A peaceful, easy feeling... Nice... No extravagance... Nothing outta the ordinary... oh, unless you wanna count Bashie.. (Sebastion, the hound)... Bashie likes convertible rides.. he plants one (or both) paws atop the door frame.. and catches the breeze.. allofasudden there's hella yelping, like a bumble bee had just feasted on his nads... and continued yelping... hideous.. LOUD, very LOUD.. well, twas determined Bashie was rolling up the window with his back paw - his neck was now stuck between the raising window and the window/door frame... Pretty certain his paw was still attempting to raise the window (thus even higher pitched yelping) and thus, smashing him between the window and the frame... Once it was figured out what was wrong, and then determined he wasn't destined to life with a split personality (See.. and Bastion), it made for a pretty decent laugh…”
I truly thought I was gonna pee in my pants a bit…
So I’m driving home in that crappy ice/snow/rain mix the other day… whittled down some fingernails enroute.. Said my prayers/thanks for the warmth of the Hot…. Rod… Lincoln heater… Continually had wipers on and off (remember, I almost haveta sit in the middle to see because of impotent left side windshield washer spray thing broken.. And finally I pulled into Liberty..
The haze on the windshield reminded me of the day that sonofabitchin’ eye doctor looked me over for 24 minutes before exclaiming “Victor, how old are your?”… Cataracts… Everything was blurry… My windshield had cataracts…
So, I pull in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot. Get out my trusty bottlea blue crap.. Roll the window down.. Spray, spray, spray… Ahm, Victor… did you forget the window won’t stay down? Yes. Yes I did forget that. allofasudden there's hella yelping, like a bumble bee had just feasted on my nads... and continued yelping... hideous.. LOUD, very LOUD.. It was truly one of those moments where I didn’t know whether to cry, or pee a bit in my pants from laughter.
Bashie, you win. What goes around came around. Checkenginelight. Downity. Self deprecation. (Self decapitation damn near.)
Like Grandma in Parenthood… I like the roller coaster… Treading water.. The high dive… the low dive.. Laying beside the pool staring at wonderful derrieres.. Up/Down..ity.. Such is life.
Don’t have premarital sex… Don’t drive the car outta town… Stay away from so-and-so… and never stick a valued limb of life out your car window if the windows are electric.
Peace out. Love, Victurd.
And I spose that’s true… I guess without intent, at least consciously, I try to come across as “downity” - which is I guess contrary to “uppity.” People somehow seem at ease in these situations - and I think/hope it speaks to “please, I’m nice, I like you - and I’d enjoy your like in return.”
I have had several over the years tell me they despise “downity”, self deprecation - and that I should ‘shape up’. Choosing to react like a teenager who’s been told “don’t have sex… don’t drive the car out of town… don’t hang out with so-and-so” - I had sex, drove to the Plaza, lazed in Robert’s basement - and continued to be downity…
A lot of it comes naturally… like this GD blog. Checkenginelight reeked of downity. So I wrote about it. And in writing, I’ve noticed sometimes life, specifically in my case, resembles checkenginlight, downity, natural self-deprecation.
When I got the Hot…. Rod….. Lincoln.. - it was a feeling like I’d been treading water forever and a day, and finally I was able to pull myself outta the water - get up on the high dive, pound my chest and give it my best Tarzan impersonation. (That’s dating you Victor.) See? You self-deprecating bastard!
Sooooooooooooooo… in due time, the Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln had 12 empty McDonald’s sacks, 7 or so cigarette butts, 8 to 10 articles of clothing, an empty box, 6 days worth of mail, two empty quarts of oil, an electric shaver, hairbrush and…………..WAIT!.. Victor, you’re doing it again.. For criminy sakes can’t you keep up? Get wit the program. STAY on that high dive.
So I cleaned it. Even bought, close your ears, Armorall. Went with my buddy Kendra to a high school football game. It’s been reasonably clean since.
On the low dive now… I invited friends to lunch the other day, as in “I’ll drive.” Was shortly followed though by the tongue mostly outta cheek remark “but…. I don’t have car insurance, so, if we’re involved in an accident, you can’t sue me.” Downity. DAMMIT VICTOR!
“Is it clean?” GD! I reckon I earned it. It’s kinda like I told the bastards recently in my own written review at work (when asked for ‘potential areas of improvement’) “I know people look at my desk and smirk… Truthfully, I don’t really care… I know where each and everything is on my desk… but yes, I suppose this is an area I can improve upon.”
So we drove to lunch.. “Terry, you’ll have to unlock that door as soon as it locks because if you don’t, the door will swing open and you’ll land in the middlea Blue Ridge Boulevard. Click.
Jennifer, can you hand me that squirt bottle right there? I proceeded to roll my window down and spray the blue stuff on my windshield so I could see because the GD left side squirter is impotent. Downity. The ‘new’ Checkenginelight Hot… Rod… Lincoln.. Oh, and the “coolant low” light is stuck on, the driver’s side window now will not stay down (making for bunches of fun for the snotnoses at the drive up window at McDonalds.)
Sooooo, this (squirting the blue from my bottle) brought a chorus of laughs from the riders… but we could now see.. And were on our way.. A good lunch, nice camaraderie.. And back to the grind..
The goes around comes around part…
Not long ago I related a story about an evening ride last summer… I’ll bore you with it again:
“A peaceful, easy feeling... Nice... No extravagance... Nothing outta the ordinary... oh, unless you wanna count Bashie.. (Sebastion, the hound)... Bashie likes convertible rides.. he plants one (or both) paws atop the door frame.. and catches the breeze.. allofasudden there's hella yelping, like a bumble bee had just feasted on his nads... and continued yelping... hideous.. LOUD, very LOUD.. well, twas determined Bashie was rolling up the window with his back paw - his neck was now stuck between the raising window and the window/door frame... Pretty certain his paw was still attempting to raise the window (thus even higher pitched yelping) and thus, smashing him between the window and the frame... Once it was figured out what was wrong, and then determined he wasn't destined to life with a split personality (See.. and Bastion), it made for a pretty decent laugh…”
I truly thought I was gonna pee in my pants a bit…
So I’m driving home in that crappy ice/snow/rain mix the other day… whittled down some fingernails enroute.. Said my prayers/thanks for the warmth of the Hot…. Rod… Lincoln heater… Continually had wipers on and off (remember, I almost haveta sit in the middle to see because of impotent left side windshield washer spray thing broken.. And finally I pulled into Liberty..
The haze on the windshield reminded me of the day that sonofabitchin’ eye doctor looked me over for 24 minutes before exclaiming “Victor, how old are your?”… Cataracts… Everything was blurry… My windshield had cataracts…
So, I pull in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot. Get out my trusty bottlea blue crap.. Roll the window down.. Spray, spray, spray… Ahm, Victor… did you forget the window won’t stay down? Yes. Yes I did forget that. allofasudden there's hella yelping, like a bumble bee had just feasted on my nads... and continued yelping... hideous.. LOUD, very LOUD.. It was truly one of those moments where I didn’t know whether to cry, or pee a bit in my pants from laughter.
Bashie, you win. What goes around came around. Checkenginelight. Downity. Self deprecation. (Self decapitation damn near.)
Like Grandma in Parenthood… I like the roller coaster… Treading water.. The high dive… the low dive.. Laying beside the pool staring at wonderful derrieres.. Up/Down..ity.. Such is life.
Don’t have premarital sex… Don’t drive the car outta town… Stay away from so-and-so… and never stick a valued limb of life out your car window if the windows are electric.
Peace out. Love, Victurd.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Slip slidin’ away…
Inclement weather….
We’ve talked about all kindsa stuff that likens life… The roller coaster… The half full/half empty glass.. Down times… up times.. Friends/relatives that pump/lift us up… curmudgeons that take us down, deflate us.... Stuff we deal with in the flow of life…
Howabout inclement weather?
If you stayed awake during “Checkenginelight 101” you’ll remember, the fugger started with a screwdriver, the heat had to be on 12 months a year ‘cause it had a baby water leak, there was no “P”… only “RNDL” - so, I couldn’t date no woman livin’ ona hill… I had halfa front bumper…The “checkenginelight came on, went off, came on… the brake light ultimately came on.. The headliner was falling down… etc, etc, etc….
It was… an experience to just take a ride… it’s amazing I EVER even had a date. (Kathie, please either take a bow or post your email addy so all can email “WHAT were you thinking?””)
So tonight… I left work 20 minutes early ‘cause I’m a nervous sonofagun… We had maybe 2-3 inches of snow… Slushy crap in the morning, followed by freezing rain/snow - u know, the kinda stuff you actually HEAR as it comes down…
So I geared up… “Mary, you care if I take off 20 minutes early?”… No.. that’s fine.. wussy… (I loved that!)….
I started the Hot… Rod… Lincoln… (with the super-special cassette tape player) five minutes before takeoff….
I finally get in the car… I feel likes an airline pilot ready to set my course.. (Which is fancy for “I’m presently too GD (gosh darn) poor, no car insurance, PLEASE keep this muther ‘tween the ditches.”).. “Tower One this is Lincoln ‘95 prepared for takeoff.. Gonna use runway 71 to 435.. Over”…
We have two exits out at work. One somewhat downhill, one level. The level one is the “in only”… but “Captain Schultze” has deemed ‘fuck ‘em’ - I wanna be safe…
Whew. Outta the parking lot.. “Hey Vic, I heard once you get to the Interstate, all is good.. It’s the side roads where everyone is having problems.”
Gee thanks Dean. All’s cool with me, and it’s OK ‘cause I gotta nuther paira clean undies at home in the sock drawer… (I hide ‘em from Maynard there… there’s just something about “sharing” undies I ain’t into.)
So………….. I’ve gots me this Hot…… Rod…. Lincoln… (the 1995 model with THE BEST
Friggin’ cassette tape player u ever seen…)
For weeks, I’ve bemoaned the fact it’s taken me $11-$12 (as friggin’ gas fluctuates) to make it
to/fro work, when $8 actually cut it in checkenginelight….
NOW.. I’m glad I’m in, basically, an armored vehicle, 8 cylinder, 642 triple overhead cam
engine… . Heavy. No slip sliding for me. All I had with the ‘93 Taurus was a little electronic
place where ‘checkenginelight” either lit up, or it didn’t.
Upgrading to the Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln… I’ve now got this digital display that completely
analyzes everything and flashes messages like “low windshield washer fluid”… “check ride
control”… ‘Driver’s door ajar”… and even “wow, you’re a horny sonofabitch, you need to get
laid soon.” I love my Lincoln. It really knows me…
Sooooooooooooooooo… I have no idea about the “door ajar” thing because everything is
tight/sealed…. The ‘ride control’ is cool, so no worry about the ride… A little bit ago, I
FILLED the windshield washer fluid thingy.. The light went off.. And down the road I went.
So, white knuckles, I’m now on Interstate. Here comes, passing me, a 53’ Crete Carrier
\truck.. You sonofabitch… and soon… a double-van Roadway semi.. GD it.. You
sonofabitch… and the wipers washed the spray away…
Inclement weather… How do we deal with it? HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY wait. This
is like LIFE!… The ups, the downs, the “I can’t see shit”s, to “Oh sumbitch.. I hope like hell if I
tap-tap-tap my brakes, I don’t buu-fuu that Ford Focus..”
So…. In keeping with my “I can’t win for losing” checkenginelight kinda thing - I noticed..
since I’d filled up the “low windshield washer fluid” thingy… I’ll be gosh darn if the passenger’s
side didn’t spray like a sonofagun (u know, like a dude peeing with an early morning boner) and
the left side… dribbled outta the ‘eyelet’ thingy.. The little dribble went about 3 inches.. And
the windshield is like 9 inches from the eyelet… so… basically, useless…
So there I was… the passenger side wiper/spray thing managed to clear off the very mid-center
right of the windshield… and this is how I traversed 34 miles down the road… peeking thru the
clear spot… flipping off (after they were way past me) the sumbitches that were giving me dirty
looks for doing 50 in a 65 MPH zone.
One car length for every 10 MPH. That’s the way life is sposedta go. I take 3-4 car lengths.
Decrease your speed by 10% in inclement weather… I’m at 30%… Plan ahead, have
candles, have cell phone charged, layer your clothing, let someone know when you leave, keep
radio/noise at minimal level so you can concentrate… no jackrabbit starts.. Anticipate danger..
If u go in a skid, DON’T PANIC!… watch for others…
And then it hit me… driving in inclement weather is JUST LIKE going thru life… slow down in
times of trouble… prepare yourself… watch out for the other guy… try to plan ahead…
DON’T PANIC!!!… anticipate potential danger… Go easy on starts, turns and stops.
We sooooooooooooo take for granted the days off where we don’t haveta get out there… We sooooooooooooooo take for granted all the perfect conditions where we set the cruise - and simply get from here to there with no problem..
It’s when the “shit happens” we turn all attention to everything… Inclement weather… Family problems… Work problems… Money problems… “How am I ever gonna be able to ____ (whatever it is you/I need to do.)
I’m now home. It’s 68 degrees here. I’m in regular clothes.. (yes, blankie thrown over lap)… but… point is.. I made it…
We make it.. We make it in inclement weather… We make it when tears are at the forefront.. We make it just when we wanna turn to the Lord and say “Oh Dear God… WHY ME?”…..
We do.. There isn’t anything presented upon us we can’t make it thru…. Sure, we may slip and slide.. .we may have a minor fender bender… we may rear end someone because we didn’t tap-tap-tap… but we make it..
Slip sliding away, slip sliding away
You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away
Whoah God only knows, God makes his plan
The informations unavailable to the mortal man
Were workin our jobs, collect our pay
Believe were gliding down the highway, when in fact were slip sliding away
Layer up… slow down.. Tap-tap-tap… havea full tank… let others know where/how you are… relax, if u can… go slow… make it… …………… thru life……. I know u can…..
I am… Love, Victurd
We’ve talked about all kindsa stuff that likens life… The roller coaster… The half full/half empty glass.. Down times… up times.. Friends/relatives that pump/lift us up… curmudgeons that take us down, deflate us.... Stuff we deal with in the flow of life…
Howabout inclement weather?
If you stayed awake during “Checkenginelight 101” you’ll remember, the fugger started with a screwdriver, the heat had to be on 12 months a year ‘cause it had a baby water leak, there was no “P”… only “RNDL” - so, I couldn’t date no woman livin’ ona hill… I had halfa front bumper…The “checkenginelight came on, went off, came on… the brake light ultimately came on.. The headliner was falling down… etc, etc, etc….
It was… an experience to just take a ride… it’s amazing I EVER even had a date. (Kathie, please either take a bow or post your email addy so all can email “WHAT were you thinking?””)
So tonight… I left work 20 minutes early ‘cause I’m a nervous sonofagun… We had maybe 2-3 inches of snow… Slushy crap in the morning, followed by freezing rain/snow - u know, the kinda stuff you actually HEAR as it comes down…
So I geared up… “Mary, you care if I take off 20 minutes early?”… No.. that’s fine.. wussy… (I loved that!)….
I started the Hot… Rod… Lincoln… (with the super-special cassette tape player) five minutes before takeoff….
I finally get in the car… I feel likes an airline pilot ready to set my course.. (Which is fancy for “I’m presently too GD (gosh darn) poor, no car insurance, PLEASE keep this muther ‘tween the ditches.”).. “Tower One this is Lincoln ‘95 prepared for takeoff.. Gonna use runway 71 to 435.. Over”…
We have two exits out at work. One somewhat downhill, one level. The level one is the “in only”… but “Captain Schultze” has deemed ‘fuck ‘em’ - I wanna be safe…
Whew. Outta the parking lot.. “Hey Vic, I heard once you get to the Interstate, all is good.. It’s the side roads where everyone is having problems.”
Gee thanks Dean. All’s cool with me, and it’s OK ‘cause I gotta nuther paira clean undies at home in the sock drawer… (I hide ‘em from Maynard there… there’s just something about “sharing” undies I ain’t into.)
So………….. I’ve gots me this Hot…… Rod…. Lincoln… (the 1995 model with THE BEST
Friggin’ cassette tape player u ever seen…)
For weeks, I’ve bemoaned the fact it’s taken me $11-$12 (as friggin’ gas fluctuates) to make it
to/fro work, when $8 actually cut it in checkenginelight….
NOW.. I’m glad I’m in, basically, an armored vehicle, 8 cylinder, 642 triple overhead cam
engine… . Heavy. No slip sliding for me. All I had with the ‘93 Taurus was a little electronic
place where ‘checkenginelight” either lit up, or it didn’t.
Upgrading to the Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln… I’ve now got this digital display that completely
analyzes everything and flashes messages like “low windshield washer fluid”… “check ride
control”… ‘Driver’s door ajar”… and even “wow, you’re a horny sonofabitch, you need to get
laid soon.” I love my Lincoln. It really knows me…
Sooooooooooooooooo… I have no idea about the “door ajar” thing because everything is
tight/sealed…. The ‘ride control’ is cool, so no worry about the ride… A little bit ago, I
FILLED the windshield washer fluid thingy.. The light went off.. And down the road I went.
So, white knuckles, I’m now on Interstate. Here comes, passing me, a 53’ Crete Carrier
\truck.. You sonofabitch… and soon… a double-van Roadway semi.. GD it.. You
sonofabitch… and the wipers washed the spray away…
Inclement weather… How do we deal with it? HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY wait. This
is like LIFE!… The ups, the downs, the “I can’t see shit”s, to “Oh sumbitch.. I hope like hell if I
tap-tap-tap my brakes, I don’t buu-fuu that Ford Focus..”
So…. In keeping with my “I can’t win for losing” checkenginelight kinda thing - I noticed..
since I’d filled up the “low windshield washer fluid” thingy… I’ll be gosh darn if the passenger’s
side didn’t spray like a sonofagun (u know, like a dude peeing with an early morning boner) and
the left side… dribbled outta the ‘eyelet’ thingy.. The little dribble went about 3 inches.. And
the windshield is like 9 inches from the eyelet… so… basically, useless…
So there I was… the passenger side wiper/spray thing managed to clear off the very mid-center
right of the windshield… and this is how I traversed 34 miles down the road… peeking thru the
clear spot… flipping off (after they were way past me) the sumbitches that were giving me dirty
looks for doing 50 in a 65 MPH zone.
One car length for every 10 MPH. That’s the way life is sposedta go. I take 3-4 car lengths.
Decrease your speed by 10% in inclement weather… I’m at 30%… Plan ahead, have
candles, have cell phone charged, layer your clothing, let someone know when you leave, keep
radio/noise at minimal level so you can concentrate… no jackrabbit starts.. Anticipate danger..
If u go in a skid, DON’T PANIC!… watch for others…
And then it hit me… driving in inclement weather is JUST LIKE going thru life… slow down in
times of trouble… prepare yourself… watch out for the other guy… try to plan ahead…
DON’T PANIC!!!… anticipate potential danger… Go easy on starts, turns and stops.
We sooooooooooooo take for granted the days off where we don’t haveta get out there… We sooooooooooooooo take for granted all the perfect conditions where we set the cruise - and simply get from here to there with no problem..
It’s when the “shit happens” we turn all attention to everything… Inclement weather… Family problems… Work problems… Money problems… “How am I ever gonna be able to ____ (whatever it is you/I need to do.)
I’m now home. It’s 68 degrees here. I’m in regular clothes.. (yes, blankie thrown over lap)… but… point is.. I made it…
We make it.. We make it in inclement weather… We make it when tears are at the forefront.. We make it just when we wanna turn to the Lord and say “Oh Dear God… WHY ME?”…..
We do.. There isn’t anything presented upon us we can’t make it thru…. Sure, we may slip and slide.. .we may have a minor fender bender… we may rear end someone because we didn’t tap-tap-tap… but we make it..
Slip sliding away, slip sliding away
You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away
Whoah God only knows, God makes his plan
The informations unavailable to the mortal man
Were workin our jobs, collect our pay
Believe were gliding down the highway, when in fact were slip sliding away
Layer up… slow down.. Tap-tap-tap… havea full tank… let others know where/how you are… relax, if u can… go slow… make it… …………… thru life……. I know u can…..
I am… Love, Victurd
Monday, December 03, 2007
Living with gonorrhea….
MADE YA LOOK!
No, don’t think I have it, but… the point being… you’re here.. Gotcha!
Normalcy.. There.. How’s that for a topic?
Is there sucha thing? Webster says “the state or fact of being normal.”
That doesn’t really tell you shit, and I hate when a word is defined with some form of the word itself… So, what’s ‘normal’?
American Heritage jumps in with “Conforming with, adhering to, or constituting a norm, standard, pattern, level, or type; typical: normal room temperature; one's normal weight; normal diplomatic relations.”
I don’t really like that shit either. You stand in line at McDonalds. Dude next toya don’t look normal, but for him, mebbe the exact opposite is true… Neither ofya are conforming to squat. Neither ofya are adhering to anything. Neither constitutes a norm - except to the normalcy of our own lives.
You don’t have to walk very far to notice distinct differences in normalcy.
Closing my eyes, thinking of ten different people I’ve been around in the last week:
1) 19 year marriage. HATE IT. Want out. Stuck. Control. No car. No funds. Do this don’t do that can’t you read the signs. Leap and possibly give up 16 and 17 yr old’s love? I don’t think so. Normal for her. Daily. Sad, but normal.
2) Life is WONDERFUL. I appreciate EVERY moment. I spent 8 years in prison for Meth. I won’t go back there. I’m alive. I’m free. I can be with my family. I’m making up for lost time. I’ve learned. I sooooo appreciate the “now” normal.
3) My wife and I have separate bedrooms. The intimacy stopped long ago. She claimed she is being forced to work from 8pm to 8am this coming Saturday - but I don’t have the heart to drive by her work and look for her car. Tis his “normal” life.
4) My husband drinks excessively every night. He’s a good man and this is his only fault. He’s a good father, is nice to me - and this is his only fault - so now it’s normal.
5) My husband thinks it’s hot that other men are attracted to me. We go out, and he encourages me to be flirtatious, to dance, to rub, to push the envelope but not seal it. Their normalcy.
6) I have a unique life. My husband and I are raising my kids, and in addition, we’ve adopted some - and it’s awesome. I live my life, as does my husband, for our kids. Normal to us. Editor’s note: This fucking rocks.
7). I am president of a family owned company. People say I’m impatient, pushy, ask for answers to trivial things within the workforce and that I’m strongly persist until I get an answer. It’s all I know. It’s my normalcy.
8). I am very pretty. At late 40-something, I really don’t care if I’m ever in another relationship again. In fact, I don’t seek one, and I’ll let those guess if it’s because my first and only longterm was pure crap --- or, if it’s because I hangout with women who are questionable in their sexual preferences. I know. But, it’s for me, and me only. Life, while some may scoff, to me is normal.
9) I’m in my 60’s, and my wife is an invalid in a nursing home - and has been for sometime. Yes, I have my urges, my wants, my “Damn I’d liketa (with that one)” - but I then sit back.. Hide kinda. I live but I don’t. She lives but she doesn’t. It’s now become normal.
10). I’m in my late 40’s. I control all our company’s finances. The continuance of my company is very dependent upon me. For that, I work almost every night until 7-8pm. Yes, I have a family - and while most are raised - she understands. She’s used to it. It’s normal. It’s the way. It’s my/our life.
Shakin’ your head thinking to yourself “Damn, maybe I ain’t got it so bad.” Uh huh, me too. I coulda spoken about the homeless my son encounters daily. I coulda highlighted the ultra-religious. The drunks. The druggies. The very depressed ones. The up and comers, and the done-made-its. The 3-car garages and the sleep under the Broadway Bridges.
I coulda written as if I were black and what it’s like to interview for a position… or… how it feels to be an illegal immigrant, scared, but trying to do best for my family… or what it’s like trying to sleep at night in Iraq… or worse, what it’s like for the parents of one in Iraq to sleep at night..
Recently (and I like him), in March, Trent Green was bemoaning the fact the Chiefs had treated him/his family horribly while not giving him a fair chance at the Quarterback job, and also not dealing (trading) him in the meantime. “We’ve got to make some decisions regarding our kids and school.“ I computed, Trent’s last game was like December 17th, and from then until he was finally traded - he made $35,000+ per day. He doesn't know any different. To him, he was in normalcy, and conditions changed so now he wasn't.
Is there a summary to all this crap? I don’t really know. If there is - it’s that, whatever your normalcy is - you can’t be too far off base. There are others probably weirder. There are others not quite as happy. There are others who don’t have a realistic look at life. There are others who simply don’t know any better. There are others who makeya think “damn.. I’m glad I am who I am.”
I challenge you. Take a look at ten around you. Chickenscratch in a journal their lives. Then takea look at yours. Normalcy has a broad, broad range. Mosta the time I think the vast majority of us are truly closer to normal than the next Joe. (Terry, not talking about your Joe… remember I said “Editor’s note: This fucking rocks.”)
So on you go. Yes, I know there are days u don’t wear undies. I know there’s no way some days of the week you’d never let anyone in to take a picture of all the rooms of your house. Yes, I know your brain thinks weird shit you’d neva-ever share. Yes, I know you and he/she did “that”. It’s ok. It’s normal to you. That’s all that matters.
Love… as normal, Victurd.
No, don’t think I have it, but… the point being… you’re here.. Gotcha!
Normalcy.. There.. How’s that for a topic?
Is there sucha thing? Webster says “the state or fact of being normal.”
That doesn’t really tell you shit, and I hate when a word is defined with some form of the word itself… So, what’s ‘normal’?
American Heritage jumps in with “Conforming with, adhering to, or constituting a norm, standard, pattern, level, or type; typical: normal room temperature; one's normal weight; normal diplomatic relations.”
I don’t really like that shit either. You stand in line at McDonalds. Dude next toya don’t look normal, but for him, mebbe the exact opposite is true… Neither ofya are conforming to squat. Neither ofya are adhering to anything. Neither constitutes a norm - except to the normalcy of our own lives.
You don’t have to walk very far to notice distinct differences in normalcy.
Closing my eyes, thinking of ten different people I’ve been around in the last week:
1) 19 year marriage. HATE IT. Want out. Stuck. Control. No car. No funds. Do this don’t do that can’t you read the signs. Leap and possibly give up 16 and 17 yr old’s love? I don’t think so. Normal for her. Daily. Sad, but normal.
2) Life is WONDERFUL. I appreciate EVERY moment. I spent 8 years in prison for Meth. I won’t go back there. I’m alive. I’m free. I can be with my family. I’m making up for lost time. I’ve learned. I sooooo appreciate the “now” normal.
3) My wife and I have separate bedrooms. The intimacy stopped long ago. She claimed she is being forced to work from 8pm to 8am this coming Saturday - but I don’t have the heart to drive by her work and look for her car. Tis his “normal” life.
4) My husband drinks excessively every night. He’s a good man and this is his only fault. He’s a good father, is nice to me - and this is his only fault - so now it’s normal.
5) My husband thinks it’s hot that other men are attracted to me. We go out, and he encourages me to be flirtatious, to dance, to rub, to push the envelope but not seal it. Their normalcy.
6) I have a unique life. My husband and I are raising my kids, and in addition, we’ve adopted some - and it’s awesome. I live my life, as does my husband, for our kids. Normal to us. Editor’s note: This fucking rocks.
7). I am president of a family owned company. People say I’m impatient, pushy, ask for answers to trivial things within the workforce and that I’m strongly persist until I get an answer. It’s all I know. It’s my normalcy.
8). I am very pretty. At late 40-something, I really don’t care if I’m ever in another relationship again. In fact, I don’t seek one, and I’ll let those guess if it’s because my first and only longterm was pure crap --- or, if it’s because I hangout with women who are questionable in their sexual preferences. I know. But, it’s for me, and me only. Life, while some may scoff, to me is normal.
9) I’m in my 60’s, and my wife is an invalid in a nursing home - and has been for sometime. Yes, I have my urges, my wants, my “Damn I’d liketa (with that one)” - but I then sit back.. Hide kinda. I live but I don’t. She lives but she doesn’t. It’s now become normal.
10). I’m in my late 40’s. I control all our company’s finances. The continuance of my company is very dependent upon me. For that, I work almost every night until 7-8pm. Yes, I have a family - and while most are raised - she understands. She’s used to it. It’s normal. It’s the way. It’s my/our life.
Shakin’ your head thinking to yourself “Damn, maybe I ain’t got it so bad.” Uh huh, me too. I coulda spoken about the homeless my son encounters daily. I coulda highlighted the ultra-religious. The drunks. The druggies. The very depressed ones. The up and comers, and the done-made-its. The 3-car garages and the sleep under the Broadway Bridges.
I coulda written as if I were black and what it’s like to interview for a position… or… how it feels to be an illegal immigrant, scared, but trying to do best for my family… or what it’s like trying to sleep at night in Iraq… or worse, what it’s like for the parents of one in Iraq to sleep at night..
Recently (and I like him), in March, Trent Green was bemoaning the fact the Chiefs had treated him/his family horribly while not giving him a fair chance at the Quarterback job, and also not dealing (trading) him in the meantime. “We’ve got to make some decisions regarding our kids and school.“ I computed, Trent’s last game was like December 17th, and from then until he was finally traded - he made $35,000+ per day. He doesn't know any different. To him, he was in normalcy, and conditions changed so now he wasn't.
Is there a summary to all this crap? I don’t really know. If there is - it’s that, whatever your normalcy is - you can’t be too far off base. There are others probably weirder. There are others not quite as happy. There are others who don’t have a realistic look at life. There are others who simply don’t know any better. There are others who makeya think “damn.. I’m glad I am who I am.”
I challenge you. Take a look at ten around you. Chickenscratch in a journal their lives. Then takea look at yours. Normalcy has a broad, broad range. Mosta the time I think the vast majority of us are truly closer to normal than the next Joe. (Terry, not talking about your Joe… remember I said “Editor’s note: This fucking rocks.”)
So on you go. Yes, I know there are days u don’t wear undies. I know there’s no way some days of the week you’d never let anyone in to take a picture of all the rooms of your house. Yes, I know your brain thinks weird shit you’d neva-ever share. Yes, I know you and he/she did “that”. It’s ok. It’s normal to you. That’s all that matters.
Love… as normal, Victurd.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Does time heal all wounds?
I ain’t real sure. I think in some arenas is does - in others, mebbe not.
There’s the story of the father and son, whenever his son would unleash his anger on another, he made his son promise to stick a knife in the wooden fence in their backyard. Then, when he’d done a good deed - or said something nice to someone, he could pull one knife out. Over time, the anger bouts lessened, and eventually the day came when the last knife was pulled from the fence.
The basic moral is that the son was upset in that all the knives were removed - but there were still scars left within the fence. Exactly the point the father was trying to make.
MU lost last night. For the 12,478th time in my life of athletics, I’d allowed myself to reach the pentium of enthusiasm - only to be dropped freefalling back to my abode mid 4th quarter.
I woke up, reread about how bad it was. Now what?
There’s a local shrink who only works with sport’s clients… Has a one hour weekly radio show on the subject.. And as I sat in the Piggly Wiggly parking with my eyes on the KC paper - my ears were tuned to his words of “Just how do you personally overcome a loss.”
Sport losses are reasonably easy to overcome. One, it’s a damn game. Yes, crow is sometimes eaten - but the sun comes up - there are more games to be played. When I Googled “rebound from loss” no less than 10,000 stories came up - and each and every one was a headline of a team playing again, “rebound from loss to.”
All kinds of losses. Loved ones. Time helps, but it doesn’t heal the wound. Strangely, the hurt, in and of itself, may be a good thing here. Hurt over the loss of a loved one means “what we had was special… I am so lucky to have had that… I do still, however, miss them/that.”
Job loss. For awhile all is good. We can cuss them. Be glad we ain’t gotta travel that same route every morning. Exchange emails/phone calls, etc., with former co-workers, and smile that we ain’t gotta work any longer with the ones we abhorred. Then - reality sets in. Bills keep coming in the mail. There’s no bread. The frozen dinners are down to two. The pets need fed. You have two good pair of underwear left. So whaddya do? You get your ass up, get another job and start anew.
Mate loss. I see widows on dating sites - and many of them “want what I had.” Wow. How trying would that be? For each. Mate loss thru divorce, or, if not married - simply through the other leaving. Sometimes “a new game” helps. Sometimes we brood. Sometimes we don’t jump back in the pool. Sometimes we don’t leggo of our heart because we know the feel of it being yanked. Many do move on quite nicely, and some even end up in the best relationship they’ve ever had.
I read an article by another shrink. I’d Googled “time heals all wounds” - and what he said, I thought, was prophetic. Reckon I oughta mention his name if I’m gonna “borrow” what he said. Jeff Herring.
“What I say to clients when they say "time heals all wounds" is that time doesn't heal anything, time simply passes. It is what we do with our lives while time is passing that either helps us, heals us or keeps us stuck.
In my work over the years, I have noticed that some people seem to have an ability to accept the hurts and disappointments of life and then move on. They have a certain resiliency.
Others seem to stay stuck in their pain, living as if the painful events of their lives had occurred just moments ago.
As I sought to understand the strategies of these different types of people, some interesting differences made themselves clear. What follows are lists of strategies for how to remain miserable and then strategies for how to heal, move on, and thrive.
How to stay miserable
• Complain about the unfairness of it all. ("This should not have happened" - "How could anyone do such a thing?")
• Organize your life around the event, trauma or injustice. Make it a central theme in your life. Talk about nothing else. Bore your friends.
• Remain bitter and unforgiving. A wise friend of mine once said, "Not forgiving someone is much like trying to crush a sandspur between your fingers. You might eventually do it, but it sure is going to hurt."
• Become a victim. Give up your power to take responsibility and control over your own life.
• Play the scene over and over in your mind. Keep thinking of what you should have done or what you should have said.
How to move on, heal and thrive
• Talk about it. Many of us mistakenly believe that if we keep it inside it won't bother us. Quite the opposite is true. Remember the character -Tom Wingo in "Prince of Tides" and the damage done by not talking about the trauma that had happened in his family? Many times, getting it. out in the open can make it manageable.
• Forgive those involved. Forgiving does not condone what someone else did, it simply releases us from the pain of their actions.
• Most importantly, follow this favorite advice of mine:
"Make a place for the event in your life and then put it in its place."
It's important to remember that it did happen and it did affect you. At the same time, its place is in the past, much like a chapter in a book you have read and choose not to read again.
Thanks Jeff. We’ve all probably reacted in most of the ways mentioned above.
Not me. I’m perfect. GD Oklahoma Sooners. GD Len “no field goal kickin’” Elliot. I miss you terribly mom, dad, Vanda. And to you Seko Air Freight - HA - I appealed and won the right to unemployment. Oh, and finally. My one last wish is to see “him” riding his Harley down the road with onea those “the bitch fell off “ T Shirts!!!!
Hehe. Life rocks. It’s up, it’s down. It’s happy, it’s sad. We get all enthused, excited. Sometimes we rejoice, sometimes we brood. Sometimes we make marks, sometimes we make smiles. Sometimes we hurt. Sometimes we rebound better. Sometimes hurt lessens, but upon occasion we still feel baby aches.
Life, ya gotta love it. I do. Happy day, love, Victurd.
There’s the story of the father and son, whenever his son would unleash his anger on another, he made his son promise to stick a knife in the wooden fence in their backyard. Then, when he’d done a good deed - or said something nice to someone, he could pull one knife out. Over time, the anger bouts lessened, and eventually the day came when the last knife was pulled from the fence.
The basic moral is that the son was upset in that all the knives were removed - but there were still scars left within the fence. Exactly the point the father was trying to make.
MU lost last night. For the 12,478th time in my life of athletics, I’d allowed myself to reach the pentium of enthusiasm - only to be dropped freefalling back to my abode mid 4th quarter.
I woke up, reread about how bad it was. Now what?
There’s a local shrink who only works with sport’s clients… Has a one hour weekly radio show on the subject.. And as I sat in the Piggly Wiggly parking with my eyes on the KC paper - my ears were tuned to his words of “Just how do you personally overcome a loss.”
Sport losses are reasonably easy to overcome. One, it’s a damn game. Yes, crow is sometimes eaten - but the sun comes up - there are more games to be played. When I Googled “rebound from loss” no less than 10,000 stories came up - and each and every one was a headline of a team playing again, “rebound from loss to.”
All kinds of losses. Loved ones. Time helps, but it doesn’t heal the wound. Strangely, the hurt, in and of itself, may be a good thing here. Hurt over the loss of a loved one means “what we had was special… I am so lucky to have had that… I do still, however, miss them/that.”
Job loss. For awhile all is good. We can cuss them. Be glad we ain’t gotta travel that same route every morning. Exchange emails/phone calls, etc., with former co-workers, and smile that we ain’t gotta work any longer with the ones we abhorred. Then - reality sets in. Bills keep coming in the mail. There’s no bread. The frozen dinners are down to two. The pets need fed. You have two good pair of underwear left. So whaddya do? You get your ass up, get another job and start anew.
Mate loss. I see widows on dating sites - and many of them “want what I had.” Wow. How trying would that be? For each. Mate loss thru divorce, or, if not married - simply through the other leaving. Sometimes “a new game” helps. Sometimes we brood. Sometimes we don’t jump back in the pool. Sometimes we don’t leggo of our heart because we know the feel of it being yanked. Many do move on quite nicely, and some even end up in the best relationship they’ve ever had.
I read an article by another shrink. I’d Googled “time heals all wounds” - and what he said, I thought, was prophetic. Reckon I oughta mention his name if I’m gonna “borrow” what he said. Jeff Herring.
“What I say to clients when they say "time heals all wounds" is that time doesn't heal anything, time simply passes. It is what we do with our lives while time is passing that either helps us, heals us or keeps us stuck.
In my work over the years, I have noticed that some people seem to have an ability to accept the hurts and disappointments of life and then move on. They have a certain resiliency.
Others seem to stay stuck in their pain, living as if the painful events of their lives had occurred just moments ago.
As I sought to understand the strategies of these different types of people, some interesting differences made themselves clear. What follows are lists of strategies for how to remain miserable and then strategies for how to heal, move on, and thrive.
How to stay miserable
• Complain about the unfairness of it all. ("This should not have happened" - "How could anyone do such a thing?")
• Organize your life around the event, trauma or injustice. Make it a central theme in your life. Talk about nothing else. Bore your friends.
• Remain bitter and unforgiving. A wise friend of mine once said, "Not forgiving someone is much like trying to crush a sandspur between your fingers. You might eventually do it, but it sure is going to hurt."
• Become a victim. Give up your power to take responsibility and control over your own life.
• Play the scene over and over in your mind. Keep thinking of what you should have done or what you should have said.
How to move on, heal and thrive
• Talk about it. Many of us mistakenly believe that if we keep it inside it won't bother us. Quite the opposite is true. Remember the character -Tom Wingo in "Prince of Tides" and the damage done by not talking about the trauma that had happened in his family? Many times, getting it. out in the open can make it manageable.
• Forgive those involved. Forgiving does not condone what someone else did, it simply releases us from the pain of their actions.
• Most importantly, follow this favorite advice of mine:
"Make a place for the event in your life and then put it in its place."
It's important to remember that it did happen and it did affect you. At the same time, its place is in the past, much like a chapter in a book you have read and choose not to read again.
Thanks Jeff. We’ve all probably reacted in most of the ways mentioned above.
Not me. I’m perfect. GD Oklahoma Sooners. GD Len “no field goal kickin’” Elliot. I miss you terribly mom, dad, Vanda. And to you Seko Air Freight - HA - I appealed and won the right to unemployment. Oh, and finally. My one last wish is to see “him” riding his Harley down the road with onea those “the bitch fell off “ T Shirts!!!!
Hehe. Life rocks. It’s up, it’s down. It’s happy, it’s sad. We get all enthused, excited. Sometimes we rejoice, sometimes we brood. Sometimes we make marks, sometimes we make smiles. Sometimes we hurt. Sometimes we rebound better. Sometimes hurt lessens, but upon occasion we still feel baby aches.
Life, ya gotta love it. I do. Happy day, love, Victurd.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
“A little too 50 trying to be 25 kind of attitude for me.”
Onea the goofy internet dating sites I peruse (and have a profile on) - is of course a pay site. I, having the economic tenacity of - say - Braniff, never officially join them things. This specific one, you can send a message “I like your photo”, or “I like your essay”, and even “hey there.” All of which are fruitless because there is no means to contact the other formally (without paying of course.)
So…….. Being the shrewd coupon-clipping, “Date me I’ve got an Entertainment Book” kinda guy I am… I included (in code) a way to figure out my real email address… Only two have decoded (which is fancy for “after looking at that picture, whyinthehell did you figure anyone would write?”.. The first is a good friend, and stops by here occasionally… The second recently wrote me:
“Hello Missouri-I hope I put this together correctly-my pen name is Bubbles-I live in ___________ and work in __________ - there that's a peek-what's your story?”
So I wrote back - yes, looked at her profile/picture, and certainly deemed “yes, write this lady back”…. So I did - and suggested if she really kinda wanted an inside to me, my life - to check out the blog address..
In the meantime, MU has won three games… Thanksgiving, Black Friday, and two paychecks have come and gone…that is, no return email. So, surprise surprise, I wrote her:
“had a retrospective moment. Like, Hey - whatever happened to that _________- (enter town name here) lady? And then I chuckled - and thought introspectively, "well, she musta not like what she saw/read." And to me, that's all cool. Sincerely.”
So, in addition to receiving twelve emails for Viagra (how do they know?) and six emails for enlargement (how do they… never mind.).. A few from friends, buddies… her reply finally came:
“Yes Yes Yes-your blog is alittle weird and alittle too 50 trying to be 25 kind of attitude for me. It is difficult out here-I hate it too-I am a decen looking woman with a great body-especially for 51-I am very nice and kind blah blah blah-but nothing great happening.. Signed, Bubbles1955”
Bubbles, hehe, please say it ain’t so! JUST BECAUSE I daily write two buddies (both in their 20’s) the daily “You might be a Redneck if” joke - is that trying to have a 25 kind of attitude?
JUST BECAUSE included in my New Year’s Resolutions were 1) I vow to make a snow angel in 2007... 2) I vow to pee my name in the snow in 2007.. 3) I resolve to play one kickass prank on someone at work this year… 4) I resolve to throw away any skidmarked underwear (Still skidmarked after washing) at the Laundrymat. Is that all trying to have a 25 kind of attitude?
JUST BECAUSE I write “Revisiting yesterday…. Or…… denial of today??? …You kid? Me, I’m a big kid. I’ve grown up observing Stand By Me, Parenthood, Leave it to Beaver, Christmas Story, George Jetson, Home Alone, Bad News Bears…etc… and I’ve come to the Victurd consensus - life as a kid ain’t bad. Victor Immature? Probably.”
JUST BECAUSE I write “Kids don’t know racism. Kids don’t know ethnic discrimination. Kids no comprende socio-economic inequities. Kids are accepting of the vast difference in learning ability amongst souls.. Kids hug… Kids smile… Kids are bright-eyed… Kids are real.. Kids don’t hold back thoughts… Kids are givers… Kids are wide-eyed observers.. Is this trying to have a 25 kind of attitude?
What makes you think JUST BECAUSE I say “Youth… Immerse yourself… Youth doesn’t know color, power, stature, riches. Youth are the true evaluators of “good people”. I say, smother yourself in youth. By youth, I simply mean someone younger. Oh sure, be nice to old farts your/my age - but form bonds too with young pups. Many today throw digs at the “I want what I want and I want it now” belief of our youth - but it’s my belief - youth today want/need older friends (and enjoy them) now, more than ever.”
Bubbles1955, you’re right… I spose I do behave, act, live, write - as if I wore the shoes of a 25 year old… I know there are many well into their maturity as you are Bubbles1955, who scorn such a lifestyle/attitude.
I know it’s probably true I should go home after work, kick the clogs off, eat dinner, watch the news - and prepare to retire… I understand I should probably drive just under the speed limit in the far left lane.. I know that by now being 50-something I shouldn’t include words like crap, cruddy, howinthehell, F’in A Ray, “GD (gosh darn)”…
I know I shouldn’t wish to play kick-the-can again.. Or revisit my old fraternity house.. Relive an hour at my grandmother’s house as a child…
I know I should learn more about the Dow, the Nasdaq… subscribe to Modern Maturity… ne’er wear tshirts with sport team logo on them.. Learn to play bridge… maybe even hitup the VFW’s Bingo Night… I know I shouldn’t go to lunch with anyone who doesn’t remember Red Skelton, Bonanza, and Captain Kangaroo…
I guess, Bubbles1955, I’m guilty as charged…. While I did enjoy Don Ho’s Tiny Bubbles, I just don’t think I’m ready to……………. Close your ears……….. Act my age.
Color ‘him‘: an idiot… immature… up a creek with no paddles… that's digusting.. wasting his life away… “a sad existence”… “well I’d be ashamed.”..
Please tune in tomorrow as the topic might be something along the lines of: Why it’s fun to go to the park for lunch with female coworkers in dresses and play on the jungle jim…
Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
In the wine (in the wine)
Make me happy (make me happy)
Make me feel fine (make me feel fine)
Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
Make me warm all over
With a feeling that I'm gonna
Love you till the end of time
So here's to the golden moon
And here's to the silver sea
And mostly here's a toast
To you and me
So here's to the ginger lei
I give to you today
And here's a kiss
That will not fade away
Love, Victurd…..
So…….. Being the shrewd coupon-clipping, “Date me I’ve got an Entertainment Book” kinda guy I am… I included (in code) a way to figure out my real email address… Only two have decoded (which is fancy for “after looking at that picture, whyinthehell did you figure anyone would write?”.. The first is a good friend, and stops by here occasionally… The second recently wrote me:
“Hello Missouri-I hope I put this together correctly-my pen name is Bubbles-I live in ___________ and work in __________ - there that's a peek-what's your story?”
So I wrote back - yes, looked at her profile/picture, and certainly deemed “yes, write this lady back”…. So I did - and suggested if she really kinda wanted an inside to me, my life - to check out the blog address..
In the meantime, MU has won three games… Thanksgiving, Black Friday, and two paychecks have come and gone…that is, no return email. So, surprise surprise, I wrote her:
“had a retrospective moment. Like, Hey - whatever happened to that _________- (enter town name here) lady? And then I chuckled - and thought introspectively, "well, she musta not like what she saw/read." And to me, that's all cool. Sincerely.”
So, in addition to receiving twelve emails for Viagra (how do they know?) and six emails for enlargement (how do they… never mind.).. A few from friends, buddies… her reply finally came:
“Yes Yes Yes-your blog is alittle weird and alittle too 50 trying to be 25 kind of attitude for me. It is difficult out here-I hate it too-I am a decen looking woman with a great body-especially for 51-I am very nice and kind blah blah blah-but nothing great happening.. Signed, Bubbles1955”
Bubbles, hehe, please say it ain’t so! JUST BECAUSE I daily write two buddies (both in their 20’s) the daily “You might be a Redneck if” joke - is that trying to have a 25 kind of attitude?
JUST BECAUSE included in my New Year’s Resolutions were 1) I vow to make a snow angel in 2007... 2) I vow to pee my name in the snow in 2007.. 3) I resolve to play one kickass prank on someone at work this year… 4) I resolve to throw away any skidmarked underwear (Still skidmarked after washing) at the Laundrymat. Is that all trying to have a 25 kind of attitude?
JUST BECAUSE I write “Revisiting yesterday…. Or…… denial of today??? …You kid? Me, I’m a big kid. I’ve grown up observing Stand By Me, Parenthood, Leave it to Beaver, Christmas Story, George Jetson, Home Alone, Bad News Bears…etc… and I’ve come to the Victurd consensus - life as a kid ain’t bad. Victor Immature? Probably.”
JUST BECAUSE I write “Kids don’t know racism. Kids don’t know ethnic discrimination. Kids no comprende socio-economic inequities. Kids are accepting of the vast difference in learning ability amongst souls.. Kids hug… Kids smile… Kids are bright-eyed… Kids are real.. Kids don’t hold back thoughts… Kids are givers… Kids are wide-eyed observers.. Is this trying to have a 25 kind of attitude?
What makes you think JUST BECAUSE I say “Youth… Immerse yourself… Youth doesn’t know color, power, stature, riches. Youth are the true evaluators of “good people”. I say, smother yourself in youth. By youth, I simply mean someone younger. Oh sure, be nice to old farts your/my age - but form bonds too with young pups. Many today throw digs at the “I want what I want and I want it now” belief of our youth - but it’s my belief - youth today want/need older friends (and enjoy them) now, more than ever.”
Bubbles1955, you’re right… I spose I do behave, act, live, write - as if I wore the shoes of a 25 year old… I know there are many well into their maturity as you are Bubbles1955, who scorn such a lifestyle/attitude.
I know it’s probably true I should go home after work, kick the clogs off, eat dinner, watch the news - and prepare to retire… I understand I should probably drive just under the speed limit in the far left lane.. I know that by now being 50-something I shouldn’t include words like crap, cruddy, howinthehell, F’in A Ray, “GD (gosh darn)”…
I know I shouldn’t wish to play kick-the-can again.. Or revisit my old fraternity house.. Relive an hour at my grandmother’s house as a child…
I know I should learn more about the Dow, the Nasdaq… subscribe to Modern Maturity… ne’er wear tshirts with sport team logo on them.. Learn to play bridge… maybe even hitup the VFW’s Bingo Night… I know I shouldn’t go to lunch with anyone who doesn’t remember Red Skelton, Bonanza, and Captain Kangaroo…
I guess, Bubbles1955, I’m guilty as charged…. While I did enjoy Don Ho’s Tiny Bubbles, I just don’t think I’m ready to……………. Close your ears……….. Act my age.
Color ‘him‘: an idiot… immature… up a creek with no paddles… that's digusting.. wasting his life away… “a sad existence”… “well I’d be ashamed.”..
Please tune in tomorrow as the topic might be something along the lines of: Why it’s fun to go to the park for lunch with female coworkers in dresses and play on the jungle jim…
Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
In the wine (in the wine)
Make me happy (make me happy)
Make me feel fine (make me feel fine)
Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
Make me warm all over
With a feeling that I'm gonna
Love you till the end of time
So here's to the golden moon
And here's to the silver sea
And mostly here's a toast
To you and me
So here's to the ginger lei
I give to you today
And here's a kiss
That will not fade away
Love, Victurd…..
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