Extra Extra, read all about it…….

The newspaper.

I have fond mems of the newspaper. It’s a lifeline. It came yesterday, today - and it will be here tomorrow. And it’ll be here many years after you/I are gone.

Many, many a morn I’ve been awakened by the ker-plunk of it on the driveway - and the slide it makes as it traverses into the grass. It’s hell on days when I get both the Big City paper, and the Local paper. Figured out, if you kick one toward the nuther, u only gotta bend down once.

My mama was the first employee of onea our local newspapers. She started in the family’s home, in their basement. (4 yr old son of owner’s bonked her on the head one day with a 2 by 4.).. That paper grew, and grew, and grew.. Tens of thousands in circulation.. Then sold, to the older Local newspaper. They kept their printing plant though, and they print grocery fliers from a nifty 120,000 square foot building.

I have the same pattern each day. Sport’s section (smoke two cigs)… Front Page.. Scan the headlines, attack the articles I wanna attack (one cig).. Avoid the ghostly US/World news.. And the opinion columnists.. .then hop on over to the Local section.. Again, read the ones I wanta (one cig).. Check the obits.. I know, I know.. I just don’t wanna be horrified one day and ask “how’s ole so-and-so?”.. DIDN’T YOU HEAR? Oh shit, no I didn’t.

Ok, that crap’s done. By now I’m pissed because we’ve got Military deaths listed daily (God Bless our troops, not a diss on them a’tall.. Me just no comprende “why“…)…

I’ve chuckled a time or two at what had this person and that person all fired up enough to write a letter to the editor… and I’m ready for fun…

So… I goes to the FYI section. Entertainment, oddities, advice colums, cartoons, horoscopes, celeb birthdays (sometimes that one ain’t fun.. Oh shit, Englebert Humperdink is 72?)

Newspaper this n that…..

I threw the paper my mother worked for… in a town fitteen miles away.. I was fitteen.. Dude that drove drank three beers en route, three beers on the way home. He got the left sidea the street, I got the right. Between all the ink on ma arms and the smell of alcohol, I was a mess by the time each day was over.

Newspapers, after being read, have many uses. Campfire starter. Hot water heater pilot light lighter thingy (why do they call it a hot water heater?)…Wonderful to do windows with..(better than paper towels).. A bib for when u eat on the run.. Keepsakes (still gots when the Chiefs won Super Bowl, Royals won World Series..).. Paper mache.. As an umbrella.. (News)Paper airplane… And……..

Rapidfire like: for mulch, as drop cloths, to wrap Christmas ornaments, shelf paper, wrap birthday presents with the comics, clean greasy oven, tape over windows for painting, traction when stuck in car… many… many uses… and u can even use ‘em when you run outta toile.. Ahm, never mind.

Newspapers was “country, when country wasn’t cool.” It’s said, only old people read newspapers. Mebbe. But they was hella ahead of the dot-coms, CNN’s, NBC’s, ABC’s, Broadband and the entire digital community we know today. And circulation is growing.

Newspapers nowadays are kinda like professional bloggin’. Say damn near what ya want, whenya want.

Ya gotta love the REALLY small town newspapers.. “Glady and Earl Clondike visited with
Minne and Orly Squire on Friday night”…

We have a choice with newspapers, just as we do each and every page that comes our way in
life. Oh, we have some have to’s, but the vast majority of our decisions of what we do and
don’t do, what we read and don’t read - are leftin’ up to us. I cherish that about a newspaper.
Gimme it all, then I’ll pick and choose. Kinda like women, I rectum.

I’m damn skippy I’ve been able to read ‘em over the years. Yes, I do the Star, CNN, MSN,
NBC, Chuck Shepherd’s online… but I just wouldn’t be edjumacated quite like I are if it
tweren’t for the newspaper. (Gotta give a shout out here to ma cataract lens replacin’ surgeon..
YOU ROCK! THANKS! NO MORE ‘READERS‘!)

Do me a flavor. Next time u pick up one. Take a moment and smile for all the newspaper has
meant to you. Think back to that time u read about you bowling a 231 in the Hopeful
Housewife League… Close ur eyes and ‘peek’ at the birth announcement of your child..
Remember headlines from reaching the moon… JFK.. The Beatles.. The Challenger.. OJ..
Watergate.. Mount St. Helens.. Princess Di.. Newspapers connected us. We passed them
around. We’ve read about yesterday so we could be “up” on today.

Reading is wonderment. We’re never too old to learn. We might yearn for longer arms, but it’s
all good.

Gotta go to bed now. It’s only six hours, twelve minutes until that bastard wakes me up with his
lefthanded toss. I can’t wait. (Incidentally, 7 cigs were smoked during this writing…. Brb,
going to clean my monitor.. Uh huh.. Sure… with newspaper.) Love, Victurd

I have absolutely nothing to say…..

Then Victor, why are you here? Well, I rectum it’s my duty, my job. It’s expected.

To that Victor I’d say why, your not paid, and who expects?

Yeah, good point. I just don’t know what to talk about though. Seen ‘em at work. Them ones that – no matter what – they’ll talk. I’m a drifter. When someone that talks all the time starts in on it, I drift. Politely, but I do. They’re kinda like “it’s all about me.”

Then Victor, even more ammo for you to not be here, keep your fingers offa the keyboard.

I spose, but again – a duty. Tootie fruity, oh Rudy.

I’d love to have a hound again. I’m a hound kinda guy. I’d love to have a woman again, I’m a woman havin’ kinda guy. I’d love to haves me a pickemup truck, I’m a pickemup truck kinda guy. I want what I want and I wants it now. Hehe. I’d likes me an older house with a shade treed yard. Kinda-sorta so far from Gladys Kravats types I could get the morning paper in my undies. I’d likea work with the public – banter back and forth with customers. There’s nothing better than someone handing you money and then having THEM say “thank you.”

We all gots wants. If they were needs – then we couldn’t live without ‘em eh? Let’s just say – it’s tougher to live without the needs you want. In my best Scooby-doo impersonation “Rrrhuh?”.. It is. When you have things you want, you tend to need ‘em. Therefore, ya get the shakes. Ya salivate like a Pavlov dog when ya see a nifty pickemup truck. Nice booty. Summer cottage in the country.

Wishin’ and hopin’ and thinkin’ and prayin’. You tell ‘em Dusty, I’ll pat ma feet.

Life is like going into the dime store as a kid. I want that. And that. And that. S’morea that. Onea these. Four of those. A bigger bag to carry it all. A room edition so I’ve got a place to put all this crap. Might I have this whole aisle?

Then reality sets in. Mom says “no.” Or, you realize – at present – you can’t afford buying a truck. Dating is expensive, even armed with a nifty (impress the hell outta ‘em) Entertainment book. My house is kinda like onea them perilously sitting on a mudslide on the West Coast. Admitted past situational depression, along with lacka funds – finds now all kindsa ‘good’ chit needsa fixin. So, bye bye shade tree in the country idea.

Lightbulb. Ding. Idea. “Rrrhuh?”..

I’m departing now. Victor, you really talked a hella lot for not having anything to say. Yeah, I rectum. Spose it’s all about me huh? I’ve decided – I am going to go seek: a pickup driving momma, dog lover that lives in the country and owns her own retail store. That way I’d have it all. The pickemup, the woman, the job greeting the public, and I could pee by the mailbox and no one would ever know. I needs me that.

Wishin’ and hopin’ and thinkin’ and prayin’ All you gotta do is
Hold her and kiss her and squeeze her and love her - Yeah, just do it and after you do, you will be hers.. You will be hers. You will be hers.. Bye bye, (with love) Needturd.

Heinz Fitty-Seven…

Best hounds I ever had. Ain’t saying it can’t be right with a purebred - cause I’ve had them too.. And loved em… But the “canardly’s” rock. They are a mixture of all of what’s out there, and generally, the good surfaces from their heritage.

Henry Heinz was rather unique.. His first product in 1869 was horseradish. Unlike his competitors - who hid their concoctions (interspersed with leaves, wood fiber, turnip filler) in green glass jars - Heinz used transparent bottles to show/brag about his product. A fine mixture.

Believe it or not, with the banking panic of 1875 - he went bankrupt. Like the average boxer, Heinz steadied himself upright - and invented ketchup the next year… Sailed to England some ten years later, started marketing internationally… Came back from Germany after observing how well factories there treated people - and the positive effect it had on both the employees and productivity… came home.. Instilled new social benefits and services for his own employees…

Blend. It’s all about the blend. Ole Henry kept his eyeballs open - viewed all - tossed out the bad, kept the good in the backa his mind for use later.

Tiger Woods. At age 21, he’d won the Masters. Touted as The Great Black Hope - he appeared and announced, “nope.. I’m Cablinasian.” Woods made his remarks on "Oprah," when he was asked if it bothered him to be called an African-American. "It does," he said. "Growing up, I came up with this name: I'm a 'Cablinasian.'" As in Caucasian-black-Indian-Asian. Woods has a black father (or to be precise, if I am interpreting Woods' reported ancestry correctly, a half-black, one-quarter American Indian, one-quarter white father) and a Thai mother (or, with the same caveat, a half-Thai, half-Chinese mother). "I'm just who I am," Woods told Oprah Winfrey, "whoever you see in front of you."

I’m just who I am.

I remember being, oh, around 12. We lived in a shoebox, but, it was cattycorner from the high school - and I could go run, play, shoot baskets, dream of scoring touchdowns all day. One day, onea sister’s friends came over. Now she was hella rich. Purebred I guess. Hell their front yard was bigger than our subdivision, and I ain’t talking country, they lived in town! Anyways, come time for her to go.. Called home.. “yes.. It’s that little-bitty white house at the corner of Ridge and Kansas.”

It’s ok. We were blended. Like ole Henry, we kept our eyeballs open - viewed all - tossed out the bad, kept the good in the backa his mind for use later.

Life’s that way ya know? God Bless the educators who we’ve learned from, both professionally, and from conversations with plain Jane’s/John’s around the table, in passing.

Thank goodness for the way folks talk funny back East, to the ones that get wrinkly so fast in the Southeast (but are smiley), to the ones who throw out their broke dryer in the back 40 in the Midwest, the bilingual, tanned South, the rough and ready’s of the Pacific Northwest, to the fast paced Left Coasters. We ams what we ams. Blended. United.

Counted last night. Fitty-seven ‘buddies’ on my Hotmail page. Figured, what the hey, I likes to write. I likes em all. I ams what I ams thanks to many of them. Why not write ‘em each? Huh? Fitty-seven emails? Yup, and with it, they won’t know the significance - but that’s well and good. From each I take something - and hopefully have given along the way.

I only got 18 done last night - but it’s a start. Went to a party the other night. Ex sister inlaw. Fortunately, she too believes that just causea marriage ends, friendships don’t haveta. I did my usual “go from this group, to that group, mostly listening.” I ain’t a centerpiece, never have been, never will. Others are hella better than that. I just blend in. Blend ain’t bad.

Reckon it’s time to go getta baga salted peanuts and my favorite blenda coffee and take on the day. Thanks again to any/all who’ve ever lefta comment here. I learn from them. I learn just by watching you. I ain’t book smart - but I feel there’s a lot to be said for “wearing other’s shoes.” Helps me blend in.

And, oh, somewhere around 3:30pm today Maynard will say “hey, would you mind swinging thru McDonalds to get me a large fry and a plain double-cheeseburger?”… To which I reply, “sure son.. And I know, I know.. Don’t forget the ketchup.” Fitty-seven.

Toodles - going to blend in now. Have a yummy day, love, Victurd

Free at last, free at last…

Been up to McDonalds for my fitty-four cent (“you look old Mister, here, here’s the Senior rate for Java”) neverending cuppa coffee, the Sunday paper - and people-watching.

Driving home - a Golden Retriever, free of all worries, free of chain link fence, free of leash - was runnin’ with the wind across the grounds of the local elementary school near my home. Dammit, I think I even witnessed a smile across his face. I did, I really did. Now we all know this sudden freedom won’t last long - a car, an Animal Control Officer, a caring nearby resident, or - frantic searching owners will interject. Nonetheless, it’s the point. Free at last, free at last.

My mother’s 86 year old cousin. A heart-tugging ‘victim’ of her 2,500 square foot ‘forever’ home. Some battles with equilibrium landed her (temporarily) in the hospital - followed by a shorterm stay in a nursing home. Thank goodness there was improvement - she was able to go home… and alongside this she came to the frank realization - I can’t do 2,500 square feet again. She happily moved into her own apartment at an assisted living facility (desk help there 24/7 should she need, should she not answer phone - they can get to her in a moment’s notice.) She has an exercise area, arranged meals with others who can talk the Depression, WWII, Stan Musial and the like. Her own area to garden as she pleases, a wonderful studio apartment. A bright, nifty place. With certain pulls to the heartstrings of giving up her forever home - she’s free at last, free at last.

I remember as a child going to the Courthouse to use the restroom in Fulton, Missouri in the late 50’s, early 60’s. As an eight/nine year old - I didn’t understand the four restrooms. White women, Colored women, White men, Colored men. As an eleven year old, I never understood how my hometown football coach could have the quarterback handoff the ball to the most fleetfooted (happened to be black) tailback you’d ever seen - and then the coach (who also owned the local swimming pool, wouldn’t allow the tailback to swim in his pool the following summer.

Martin Luther King had a dream. In an August 1963 speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial - led to Lyndon Johnson’s July, 1964 signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 outlawing segregation in the U.S. schools and public places.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!³

Free at last. The Golden’s jaunt. The newfound happiness/relief of my 86 yr old relative. MLK’s speech providing the impetus for that running back to demonstrate his best cannonball off the high dive the following summer. Free at last, free at last.

There is happiness associated with free at last, free at last. There’s a possible chance Maynard and I will have to move - certainly a wanted free at last, free at last good ending/result, but not at this very moment with our specific intent. (Thanks in large part to no emergency fund planning on my own damn part to rescue the now $3200 Hot... Rod.. Lincoln I purchased for $1500 a year ago. VICTOR! You shouldn’t share that! Ahm, whatshername, you don’t have control of that any longer! (Free at last, free at last.)

It’s all good. I’ll (even at fitty-five) run like the wind as the Golden does. I’ll splash the hell outta whatever lifeguard is tending the diving area. I’ll plant my mom’s favorite morning glories in my next gardening area as my 86 yr old relative does. Free at last, free at last. Mebbe bassackwards, but free at last, free at last. Love, Freebird Victurd.

Sign Sign everywhere a sign…

Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign…

Was drivin’ down the road the other day.. I-435 goin’ across the Missouri River..
There in bigass electronic 12 by 18 foot sign “NO MORE TRASH!”…

So, I had just left work (PLEASE, one 15 minute break in the morning, ONE 15 minute break in the afternoon, between the times of…. We will monitor your internet usage.. First offense warning, second offense warning, third time day off without pay.. Please SIGN here that you've read your Employee Guide.”)…

“MAY 1st THROUGH 15th AGGRESSIVE DRIVING WILL BE ENFORCED.“

So I said to myself, “Self, I don’t enjoy those. It really kinda pisses me off that some (probably henpecked) little 5’4”, 120 lb wimpola sits in the DOT office making up his little WATCH OUT slogans - then later drives his ‘89 Escort by them - and doinks himself off in his own empowered enjoyment.”

Relax. We needta relax on the highway - not get more festered up.

The city of Oak Lawn, IL agrees with me. Under their state signs they placed slogans such as
STOP “and smell the roses.” STOP “means that you aren’t moving.” Illinois DOT musta had their own (probably henpecked) little 5’4”, 120 lb wimpola sits in the DOT office making up his little WATCH OUT slogans and the made the City cease. Damnit Jim.

Imagine the possibilities? STOP in the name of love.. STOP now what’s that sound everybody look whats going down.. GO (MU).. GO (Chickenhawks).. GO away (Dept of Tourism).. STOP, is your zipper up? Fun ones. STOP picking your nose. STOP it. RADAR love. DO NOT CROSS THE WHITE LINE (you might haveta walk it)..

Mebbe even commercialize it a bit, allow sponsors.. Raise funds to pay litter-picker-uppers. YIELD to Bud Light. SPEED LIMIT 55 (older than 55? Try us, we’ll get you up to speed, Viagra.) GO go, Herm’s Strip Club.. GO west young man (Horace Greeley’s Bar and Grill, next exit.)

(To) GO: Taco Bell… GOt milk? (American Dairy Council.)

Now, hey you Mister! Can’t you read, you got to have shirt and tie to get a seat, You can’t even watch, no you can’t eat, you ain’t supposed to be here.. Sign said you got to have a membership card to get inside.

Life was bouncy in the fitties. For you young turds who don’t remember - the old one-lane-each-way highways had Burma Shave ads… small, white signs spaced every quarter mile or so.. One to three/four words on each sign.. Madeya pay attention until the last sign.. Of course. “Burma Shave.”

For example:

On curves ahead
Remember, sonny
That rabbit's foot
Didn't save
The bunny
Burma-Shave

Twinkle, twinkle
One-eyed car
We all wonder
WHERE you are
Burma-Shave

Doesn't
Kiss you
Like she useter?
Perhaps she's seen
A smoother rooster!!
Burma-Shave

Life is stressy enough. We need light. We don’t need to piss of the guy that’s one-half car length behind us at 68mph. Dude might be callin on his cell to apologize to his old lady ‘cause he’d forgotten trash day and allofasudden NO MORE TRASH. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

Ok. All better now.

And the sign said everybody welcome, come in, kneel down and pray
But when they passed around the plate at the end of it all,
I didn’t have a penny to pay, so I got me a pen and a paper and I made up my own little sign,
I said thank you Lord for thinking about me, I’m alive and doing fine.

Ok, time to sign off. GO enjoy life. YIELD to fun moments. STOP and remember, life, it be good. Love, Victurd.

Incapacitation over the shoulder… Waste not, want not.

Well… the timing couldn’t be better… After three months of “The Biggest Loser” competition at work – I think I’ve won. 21 pounds, 9.8% loss of body weight. Next closest 11 pounds, 5.4 %. Looking at it positively from some’s shoes “now we only have to put up with 92.2% Vic the prick.” Hehe.

Why doest thou say you “think” you won? Well.. ‘cause another fellow that entered is off getting chemo – and he won’t return until today – for his official weigh in – thus today’s caption.

Nuther friend emailed me about onea her friends (late 20’s) dying tragically in a skydiving accident.

Seen the obits yesterday… bright, young, beautiful faces. Sad.

Drove to work today. Speed limit 40. I’m doing 44. Two chaps/chapettes whizzed by me like I was standin’ still. Hurry. Gotta.

Victor, you harp and harp and harp on this. Go slow. Look around. Enjoy. Appreciate. Choose correctly. Why?

Because life is fleeting, ya just never know. It hurts me tremendously to realize I’ve now lived longer than my 5 yr older sister got to. I can’t relate to my mother having a massive stroke – just three years beyond my now age. I cringe to think of my son’s runnin’ buddy as a child who put a bullet to his own head.

Work troubles are just that. Money woes are just that. Bumper to bumper traffic is just that. The conniving ways of some too.

Yesterday I talked about them really getting on us about making sure we take only one 15 minute break per day – enabling full attention to our work the remainder of the time. Reckon we oughta carry that rule home with us. Only substitute life. Full concentration of life.

One little diddy I love to do is simply stare at someone when it’s unknown to them I am. I try to jump in their shoes – imagine life from their chair, from under their roof, through their emotions – and how they deal with the thick and thin. Somehow, I feel closer to people when I do this.

When I interviewed for that part-time position – I was asked where I wanted to be in two years. I know what he was looking for – but reckon I’m onea those outta left field kinda persons. One, I want to be here still. Two, of course, “her.” Perhaps most importantly, I wanna continue to try to suckup every living ounce outta this bottlea life.

Yes, there are times to be what some call serious. Have to’s. Must stop, do. But I’m serious about the other times too. The fun I receive from friends, loved ones, co-workers goes so so far to help fill my life. Yesterday. Our building caught on fire at work. Actually, it was more like it “caught on smoke” cause they never found the cause – exactly where it was at.

During this two-hour “you gotta get outta here” break – the 50-some of us loitered in the West parking lot. Closed my eyes, thoughta high school. This group here, that group there. The laughs. The fun. I’d wing by this group, that group (and then stand behind the one with the nicest booty, hehe, shoot me, I’m male.) Whadda great people watching time. Individuals from this department (HS: neighborhood, class, race, creed) mingled with individuals from other departments (HS: popularity, looks/lack thereof, differently sized). Was cool.

Ok, sorry this ain’t been fun/funny – but Victor, I hope I hammered the point home to Victor. Go. Have. Watch. Jump in other’s shoes. Drive the speed limit of life. Appreciate. Pictures with the eyes. Even tear up on occasion during an emotional feel good. Love. Learn. Share. Waste not, want not. If we don’t waste what we have, we’ll still have it in the future and will not lack (want) it.

TGIF, perhaps my favorite evening anyways. Might you enjoy all - within all the hours, within all the days that end in Y. Love, Victurd

Mayday mayday mayday…

Nah, nothing’s wrong.. just kinda like saying that. You have fun/fav things to say?

I also like, Look, whaddaya talk, whaddaya talk, Whaddaya talk, Whaddaya talk? He's a music man. Dude.

Wow. Nice weather. Someone pointed out yesterday women are starting to wear less. Geez. Hadn’t noticed.

Work was nutso yesterday. Your work ever nutso? My job ain’t brain surgery, but wow, at some point – every time we move a military member’s goods – each and every shipment comes through me. Congruously I’d have one’a tappin’ on my shoulder.. one on line one.. line two ringing.. and was mid-email answering someone’s question. I’d finish one, get to the other, do the third – then forget whereinthehell I was and what I was doing.

The basta’s.. they’re getting snooty about breaks (One in the morning, and only fitteen minutes, between the set times of.. aye yai yai – and me thinks u know me by now, I likes my independence. If I’ve had occasions where I’ve had the shoulder tapper, lines 1,2,3 – questions tossed over the cubicle wall, and a truck in Alamogordo, NM needing a bill of lading NOW.. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.. I WANT/NEED a cig! What’d Beetlejuice say? SOMEBODY HELPS ME!

We’ve got camera’s now to takes our little pictures on the veranda. Nice. Mebbe if I get caught, I can add ‘em to my MySpace. I needs me some new ones there. (Went out with this chicky once – online thingy – her pic on the web was 8 yrs old. She laughed about it. The last 8 yrs hadn’t been good to her. I didn’t laugh about it. Oh well.)

We ain’t had no raise since 2006. Hmmm. At least gas, ground beef and milk haven’t risen in price. But – then again, there was the field trip to Bora Bora (‘bigs’ and their families.. the $30,000 chunka concrete dock we built so we could unload the three trucks that have used it since it was constructed three months ago.. the WONDERFUL new ceramic tiled bathrooms (7 of ‘em).. Germany, Hawaii, Florida… six brand spankin’ new diesel tractors (we now use two of them, the other four stay parked.).. Six flatbeds.. but no raises.

Victor, do you realize you could get fired for talking about your job here? I rectum. Ok, I’ll stop. No. No I won’t. Hehe. “And another thing!”.. If ya ain’t gots no “niche” – then lookout – you could be the next one on the “departures” all-employee email announcement. Recently lost two, a combined fitty years here. Bye bye. Seeya. “Economics.”

Victor, you woke up in a good mood – the hell’s the deal? Oh I am still in a good mood. Work is kinda like marriage (some).. There are just some things that you’re aware of, you probably don’t like, you know are gonna happen.. and you deal with it.. or.. you don’t. Ifn’s it reaches the point where you Popeye out and “I’ve had all I can takes and I can’t takes no more” then you leave.. you get divorced.. you go.. you drip a bit first on the ceramic tiled floor.. then.. bye bye.. Oh well.. Can’t help about the shape I’m in I can’t sing I ain’t pretty and ma legs are thing.. Look, whaddaya talk, whaddaya talk, Whaddaya talk, Whaddaya talk? He's a music man.

Life. Up. Down. In. Out. Victor, when have you had in/out of late. Yeah. My bad. Up. Down.

There’s a little bit’a something wrong with everything. And a little bit’a something right with everything. I do love my job. I love many peeps here. I love the folks I talk to allover the good ole’ US of A. I likes people giving me shit about my unkept desk. (I know where EVERYTHING is on it!).. I don’t even mind the drive. I even likes most’a upper management. Don’t understand ‘em all the time, but likes ‘em nonetheless.

Some things just are. Life’s that way. If you’ve got the money honey, I’ve got the time. Oh. Sorry. Just another one I likes saying.

Mayday mayday mayday. Happy May Day. Were you aware onea the orgins of May Day was in Chicago where they fought for the eight hour day back in the late 1800’s? Me neither, but Wiki told me. (How’d Dolly work 9 to 5?) Gimme four 10’s or lemme work from home. Some things just are.

We can work it out. You put the lime in the coconut you drink it all up. I said DOCTOR, ain’t there nothing I can take.. I saaaaid DOCTOR, ain’t there nothing I can take to relieve this belly ache. Sometimes, just bitchin’ a little feels good eh? Bitchin’. Biotches. Hehe. I know, I needta leave. Mayday mayday mayday. Love, as always, Victurd.

Ouga Chaka ouga! ....

I can't stop this feeling
Deep inside of me.
Girl, you just don't realize
What you do to me.
When you hold me
In your arms so tight,
You let me know,
Everythings alright, ahahah

Ohhhh.. ohhhh.. man.. I was dreamin’. “She” was there. The answer to all ends. Now, we know that’s ridiculous, don’t we?

If you are partnered – it ain’t the other’n that you derive all happiness from is it? Oh sure, helps, adds – but rectum happiness comes from within.

I mean, ya think Hillary is happy only due to Bill? June happy just ‘causea Ward? (And why’d she wear a dress 24/7?)..

Victor – are you rationalizing to portray happiness – and – that since you ain’t got anyone you don’t NEED anyone? Ok, so I’m easy to figure eh?

God Bless coupledom. Ya can’t force it, ya can’t control it’s ‘end’ (as every coupledom ends.) I’ve learned ya can’t even will it. U can wish it – but ya can’t snap the fingers and makes it happen.

Life has this way of tapping you on the shoulder to say “cheer up you schmuck, there are so, so many in worse situations than you.”….

Yesterday – friend shared her childhood. It wasn’t a pretty picture at all. I love this person. She’s turned into an incredible human being – but as she told her story – I sat stone-faced.. to the point of being apologetic for what she’d been thru. Knock, knock – Victor? You had an INCREDIBLE childhood – so what are you gonna do – sit around and stew because ya ain’t getting’ laid?

Victor – if u continue this “poor poor pitiful me” thing, then you’ll even run off your only reader. Hehe. Right you are. Life is good, life is fun.

How so? Tell me something funny. Well, I was on the ladder Saturday – some 25’ up in the air.. Patching some holes in the sidea my house – and, apparently I awakened the bird who’d decided to make onea them holes his home.. and when he flew out – I peed a bit, then then stumbled and tumbled almost offa the ladder. Thank goodness for the gripa my right hand – cause that’s all that was keeping me on the ladder. Glady Kravats was out there with pom-poms cheering for me to fall to the ground. And for you perverts who wanna make fun of me talking about “my good grip” – screw you. …. I’m lefthanded. Hehe.

So, we (the raccoons, the birds, the ants, a few spiders, two cats, Maynard and I) live happily – not conventionally, but happily.

My mama usedta say “one day I’d love to write a book… about my childhood.. and I’d call it “Po, but didn’t know it.”… I likes that. It speaks all about happiness. Insteada thinkin’ about all ya ain’t gots, reckon we should treasure what we do gots.

Can’t buy me love. Can’t “snap” happiness. Gotta frown? Turn upside down! Need a giggle? – Just go ‘xporin’. They’re out there – EVERYWHERE. Feelin’ empty? Well – be glad you have the capacity to be full. Takea walk in the yarda bones – that’s empty.

Tell me something else funny Victor. Well, let’s see. There’s a new girl here at work – really nice. But I gotta know, is that spaghetti or a baby in her belly. Victor, that was mean. Didn’t meanta be, really I’m just curious. Actually, she’s very pretty. Oh, and I just ran up to another new chicky here.. “_____! ______! You GOTTA get out to your car – NOW! Someone stucka “Chickenhawk” license plate on the fronta it!”… If you ain’t from the MO-KAN area, u no comprende. Say, did you hear about the Jayhawk fan that froze to death at the Drive In? Yep. He went to see “Closed ‘til Spring”.

Life can be sad. Life can be empty. Life can be rough. Life can be trying. We lose ones we love. People allofasudden are no longer in our lives – thru death or choice or geography or other employment or something. Let’s be happy, full, fortuitous with what we’ve got. When work gets stressy I remind myself “I love my job, I love my job.”.. Life now is, eh, about a B-. That’s good! I’m glad I’m here. Po, know it, but that’s ok. I’m emotionally at least upper middle class in outlook!

Ouga Chaka ouga! .... Ouga Chaka ouga! .... I’m hooked on a feeling. May you have happy tears. May you laugh till milk comes outta your nose. If coupled, may you love intently. If alone, look in the mirror and smile, that’ll make two. Pet a pet. Smile at a stranger. Ouga Chaka ouga! .... I hope you’re hooked on a feeling – a feeling of happiness.

Victor, you’re the weirdest sonofabitch I’ve ever met. Ouga Chaka ouga! .... Why would you say that? Happy day, love Victurd.

Que Sera, Sera….

When I was just a little boy
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Well, a few months back some chicky called me “pretty boy”, yet another said after/during ‘you know‘ “you’re not what I want… what are you… 65?”.. both, sadly true…

I’ve never been rich… monetarily…

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here's what my sweetheart said.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Me thinks there was rainbows… Ohhhh not that there wasn’t hella sunshiny days - but they were intermixed with rain.. And toward the end, it rained like a sumbitch…

Now I have children of my own..
They ask their father, what will I be,
Will I be handsome, will I be rich,
I tell them tenderly...

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Frankly, Maynard never asks. He just says “Please go get me that, please go get me this. Will you pick me up there, then?”

So I ain’t real sure about that song. To me (all you young people will now go “huh?”) it’s ironic that Doris Day sings this, because if there was one thing in life that was predictable, it was a Doris Day movie. Que sera sera, what’s next on the reel we already see, que sera sera.

Do we paint our own futures - or are we a victim of them, a happy recipient of them?

I rectum if we knew what lies ahead - it wouldn’t be any fun. Does that cast a spell on visualization? I think not. Does it ‘snap’ hope? Not no but hells no. Does it mean we can’t wish for a parade without rain? Hardly.

Funny… we’re so in hurry of tomorrow we forget today. Wishing our lives away. I’ve been guilty of that. “Passing time until ‘her’. “

Thank goodness I write myself to remember to enjoy today, whatever will be will be.

When I was just a fitty five yr old old fart,
I asked my bloggers, what will I be
Will I be lonely, will I get laid
Here's what they said to me.

Doris? Doris can you hear me now? Dude? Are you still even living Doris? Even if the answer’s s’more o that que sera sera crap.. I rectum it’d be better than talking to/listening to this monitor.

I hope you’re pretty (or handsome).. I hope you’re rich… I hope you have rainbows… I hope you inspire your children…

It can get mighty lonely sleeping alone.. (No offense meant Jackson.. My wonderful Maine Coon cat)… Que Sera, Sera, Whatever will be, will be, The future's not ours, to see, Que Sera, Sera, What will be, will be…

Why isn’t life, like Doris, predictable? Nighty night… sweet dreams.. And whatever u do, don’t rollover on the cat… Love, Victurd.

Eggzactly... I’ll take door number three Bob…

As I’ve traversed this ‘cruise’ to find “her”, I’ve decided our brains are like eggs, I kinda sorta think.. .My preference, and my usual brain description - scrambled. Wake up, ain’t sure what daya the week it is. Have a major appointment time/date/something one should remember - and forget.

Poached. In hot water. Mebbe wanna steer clear of these. Play the game “ain’t it awful”, and nine times outta ten, it’s their actions/behaviors that get them here/there.

Over easy. Please close your ears here. These are women with no self worth, tremendously in need/want of another.. Their desperation flows over to their zipper… well, just think peanut butter.

Fried eggs. At my age, could be old hippie fried eggs. Did so much acid in the 60’s/70’s, they need help just gettin’ dressed today. Or, could be so burnt out on men, life, “ends”, the end result is assuredly the frying pan.

Hard boiled eggs.. These are women who been bit in the butt a time or two. Very sensitive to anything you say. Justa waitin’ with that roundhouse to knock the crap outta ya should you make a linguistic slip. Can be a good mate, just make sure the one you pick ain’t bigger, packs a better wallop than you.

Coddled eggs. These are generally Johnson County ladies who’ve been thru the cessation of that kinda vehicles - station wagon, mini van, SUV, now Lincoln Navigator. They’ve basically gotten by on their looks.. They tell the breadwinner “have a nice day” every morning - then proceed to play golf, get the nails done, or whoop it up at Starbucks with other coddled eggs. The day comes their breadwinner runs inta someone with a heart they love - and the coddled eggs are out on the doorstep - with halfa breadwinner’s retirement - and their looking for someone in the $100,000+ range… Imagine that.

Steamed eggs.. These women are kinda sorta similar to poached egg women. Usually, their mate has run off with the office secretary, their best friend, or, they doinked their younger sister. With time, can be ok, but please - make sure you’re they’re up to snuff on their rabies shots.

Sunny side up. Ah, my favorite. They’ve probably been kicked, landed right side up. You can’t knock the smile offa their face. They simply “get it.” Screw the astrology charts, I wants me onea these.

Egg omelettes.. Now them are hard to figure women. They’ve been around, seen it all, probly even dated outsidea their race, religion.. Smart.. They’re smart folks. I’m a good ole of average intelligence feller, and these ladies scare the shit outta me. Know a little about everything, and a lot about most everything. I’ma wantin’ to spend these last 20 years relaxin’, not trying to keep up intellectually. Good women, but not for me.

Deviled eggs.. Kinda sorta similar to over easy eggs, but they hide it better. Ya hookup with onea these women, makes sure ya gots a pre-nup. They’re planners. Sneaky. Up to no good, ceptin for themselves. They are the yoke of the universe.

Ok, I had fun anyways. I’ve been with poached. Over easy (sorry) Omelettes. Steamed. Fried.

I thinks I’ll have mine either scrambled or sunny side up. Ahm, then we can make some bacon. Sharea potta coffee.. Play footsie whilst we turn the has browns.

Now all you women. (Victor, you had two views yesterday.. ‘both’ would suffice here.).. Now both you women, please don’t be pissed at my blog today. I really DO like/love women. You ARE what keeps me going. I was just funnin.’ Paybacks are hell, go ahead, do ya one up on bananas if u like. “Short shelf life.” “Can be bitter.” “Sometimes very green.” “Turn soft, yucky fast.”

I am eggcited about “her.”. Eggstatic even. She’ll be a good egg, surely. (Pervert. I never mentioned flipping her… you thought that.) I hope she’s all she’s cracked up to be. (A yoke, a yoke).. Medium egg, I’ll take a medium egg. (Oh shit, here come the emails)..

Once again, I’ve cooked myself in a corner, and I have no way outta here. The spatula is no help. The GD bacon grease isa burnin’ me. I put too much water in the coffee-maker, it’s overflowing. The phone is ringing. I’m late for work. Did I put deodorant on? Is there enough left on my GD debit card to purchase $3.47/gallon gas to make it to that hell hole (said with love, and hell hole used ‘cause we ain’t had a raise since ‘06)..

So Mr. Barker. About this seleggtion. I’m eggcited. I’m eggstatic. I’m not eggotistical. I believe I will take door number three.. With hadshbrowns, white toast, grape jelly, some salt, black coffee.. And… ya sell today’s newspaper?

Yours for eggver. Love, Victurd.

Happy Hour.. Some things just are.

If happy HOUR is from 4 until 7, which one is happy?

If you kiss your grandmother in Paris, would it be classified as a French kiss?

What do starving artists eat?

If a 25mph Northerly wind blows your hat 25’ to the South, why is it called Northerly?

If you’re a professional trumpeter, would it be suffice to say you’ve got a blow job?

Speakinowhich (close your ears) why do they call it a blow job when (I seen a video once) there isn’t any blowing going on?

Has anyone ever given you cake and you weren’t allowed to eat it?

Is it hypocritical to say “never say never”?

Do people with shit eating grins have bad breath?

Why would anyone skin a cat, and better yet, why would you create more ways to?

How can we hang out fully clothed?

If you taught your native language in High School in Athens, would “It’s Greek to me” take on a new meaning?

Do pediatricians play miniature golf on weekends?

If you're born again, do you have two bellybuttons? (I stole that one.)

If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done?

Could a 320 inmate with a baby face be a hardened criminal?

If you’re the good natured one that everyone on the swim team looks up to, can you make waves?

What happens if you get scared half to death twice? (Stolen)

One day when I pee my pants and forget my name, if I’m in the rocking chair at Golden Acres, could I be off my rocker at the same time?
If a ten point buck is in the throes of lovemaking, could he be horny too?

Thanks for being here. I read a statement that stuck in my brain the other day. Lady had written a letter to an advice columnist about how she tired of women throwing themselves upon her muscular, extremely handsome husband. Included in the answer was the suggestion to raise one eyebrow at the imposing woman - but the answer I REALLY like was “some thing just are.”

Wow. Some things just are. It’s like someone you really like/want but they wouldn’t give you the time of day. Some things just are. It’s like someone really likes/wants you but you have no interest, yet in a nice way - and you have absolutely nothing against them as a person - in fact you like/love them as a person. Some things just are.

I’m white. I’m (presently) po. My roof leaks. My car has 3 undented doors, and onea the ends (the back) is not crumpled. I’ve liked people who had no watch, and sheepishly, I’ve ‘been with’ people I’ve had no interest in. I want white teeth yet I smoke. I send telepathic wisdom and advice to Maynard. Some things just are.

I are glad you’re here. Just had some things to say. Just passing time (yard needs mowed, don’t wanna.. Fence - boards fallen down.. City Code lady says “can’t have that with swimming pool if it has any water in it.” - don’t wanna get out and fix it.) So I sit here and dream about “her.” I can’t friggin find “her.” If some things just are, where are she? Hehe.

Love the day. Love yourself. And there’s absolutely no truth to the fact I pay twenty-five cents per comment. No comment. If you say no comment, shouldn’t it be silent/unsaid? Ok, off to mow, fix fence. Damnit. Love, Victurd

I said over and over and over again………

I’ve observed my son. I’ve scoffed at the many times I’ve seen him sit at the computer, play the same GD youtube song over and over and OVER again.

Then, I remembered back. “Hit The Road Jack.” The 45. (For those of you born after 1965, that was “our MP3” in the day. It was a round disc.. I rectum kinda sorta like an enlarged CD.. And u hadta have either a record player that would accept the plastic thingamabob that made it fit the small ‘rod’ of the 33 player… or… the Viagra like full bore thingamabob that u didn’t need the ‘record prophylactic” to make it play.

My sister played “Hit The Road Jack” again, and again, and again. I never understood it, but I got the hee-bee-jeebie Pavlov shakes if I didn’t hear it seventeen times daily.

Rectum our brains are kinda like that. We replay stuff over and over again that’s pleasant to life’s pallet.

I replay, over and over again, the very feel I got when the nurse handed me my bundled newborn son and said “would you like to carry him to the nursery?”.. Friggin A Ray I would, and I’ll NEVER forget that walk, that feel. I play it over and over again in my brain.

Life highlights. You do that? Aw come on.. Moments where “we done good.”

One for me… Back in dinosaur days, I coached the Women’s Basketball Team at a local Liberal Arts College… I’d helped start the program my sophomore year in college, and the next year I was elevated to Head Coach because the coach gradjugated, and was on to a real life….

After 5 or 6 seasons.. Never a losing season, but many many a learning season - we’d finally reached the Missouri Small College State Championship Game… but man o man.. So did Tarkio.. Now Tarkio was like Clubber Lang.. The New England Patriots… Mohammed Ali… They recruited Iowa women, and Iowa women, back then, were jump shots and layups above us Missourians, not to mention - each 4-6 inches taller than we.…

Somehow (friggin’ awesome coaching!) we studied, prepared, lived, breathed, playing/beating Tarkio. I honestly devoted so much time and attention to one game, one moment in life - I was better prepared than checkenginelight was the night I went out with “her”.. for sure to be “the answer”…

After nearly three hours of game… we were ahead… they were ahead… I forgot who was ahead… their coach forgot who was ahead… there was 1:12 left to play. Down one point. Our biggest, baddest player then fouled out. Oh shit. “Ceptin we represented a Baptist College, so I said “Oh shucks.”

“I can do it coach. I CAN DO IT” said the freshman seated next to me on the bench. “I can make it. I CAN MAKE IT.”

She was good. Very good. She came into the season rather cocky from being “IT” in high school… and was somewhat humbled after 25 games or so… Still, very good.

“Ok Terry… go in for Brocko.”

We whittled the clock down to twelve seconds… TIME OUT! TIME OUT!…

And we got it.

I have no idea what I said… what play I called.. I think it was for a big chick - one that could shoot free throws pretty decently.. “take it to the basket.. Worst case, you’ll get fouled.. Make the free throws and we celebrate.”

Shit. They had big chick smothered. She coulda been the campus ho, but there was just no way she was gettin’ it. I CAN DO IT, however, was open on the wing.

Tick, tick, tick.. Five seconds.. Another glance at Big Chick. Nope…. Whoosh.. Over to I CAN DO IT…

The catch.. Sets her feet.. Unleashes… I can’t watch.. I’m on one knee begging for a recount on Brocko’s foul total..

WHOOSSSSHHHHHH! YES. YES.. I CAN DO IT DID IT!

State Champions over Rocky Balboa. We beat Vince Lombardi. George Steinbrenner kiss my ass - we did it!

Afterwards.. (you see I had this little front.. I promised myself not to get too excited.. Or too down.).. I was standing on the sidelines whilst the chickies celebrated at center court.. Onea the dads walked up to me.. Hugged me… said “hey.. It’s ok.. You can smile now.”

I replay that moment more than “Hit the Road Jack” in 1963. Almost as much (but not quite) as carrying Maynard his first day on the planet.

“The first time”…

A speech I made on the Courthouse steps our Senior Year…

The day I asked whatshername (who later rode of on a Harley) for her hand in marriage…

The day my boss said “we’d like you to come to work for us.”

Christmas as a kid. Thanksgivings.. Family dinners as a youth.. The first drive at 16 I ever took. (“Victor.. I know tonight is Homecoming, and you just turned 16 today.. Just got your license TODAY… please stay in our home town, and don’t drive outside it. “K pops, will do.”.. Four hours later, I straddled a GD median on the Plaza - some 30 miles away.)

So you get the point. Moments in time. I’m certain you have yours.. I have many, thank goodness.

Our brains are a DVD we can format, play at will.

As we cronies sat around the table the other night… talking crap from long ago.. I’d heard the stories.. Forgotten a few even.. Life is cone-shaped. We have the base, and we think we’ll remember everything forever and ever. Then, as we age, that cone gets skinnier, and thinner, and the memory just doesn’t recoup as it once did.

So I’m here to say write it down. Blog about it. Put it in your diary. Discuss it. Share it. Expound on it even.

The day will come I won’t remember I CAN DO IT. But it’s saved up there now. Hit the road Jack. I’ve got a few more ice cream seasons left in me. Feeling better now Ethel.

May you, yes you, relive the good/great times over and over and over again. YOU CAN DO IT. I know you can.

WHOOSSSSHHHHHH! … Love, Victurd.

Silence is golden, but my eyes still see

Ya ever get in a mood where ya just ain’t got much to say?

I have. And what I’ve found, - when that happens - my mind is on 47 other things, and the privy and enjoyment of conversation - for that moment in time, just ain’t happenin’..

I don’t wanna talk “the Election”… no “Iraq” (but God Bless our troops).. I tire of ‘work talk.’

I might even use caller ID to hide, be it family, friend or foe.

A plate of BBQ ribs infronta me, ain't eatin' in 24 hours - just don't want 'em.

I find nothing wrong with “sitting out a game.” I might even read the fun, traded emails at a later date.

Ever been around someone and you felt like stating “gee… for once, I wish you had nothing to say.” There’s a dude at work.. He’s genuinely good hearted.. Means well.. Tries his damndest to make friends but goes about it all assbackwards.. On the other hand, there isn’t one thing he doesn’t know about, or so he believes. He is, admittedly, very intelligent. But once, just once, I’d love to hear him say “Gee.. I don’t know.”

Last night I had a very good time. My very bestest friend, his wife, my two HS runnin’ cronies, one’ of em’s sister - the six of us seated around a table for talk for four, count ‘em, four hours. During this moment, I wanted talk. Absorbed in it. Enlightened by it. Reminisced about it. A friendship orgasm - without fear of herpes, aids, pregnancy or “love me til the end of time.”

Today is ‘celibacy day’. Put nicely, “please.. Can I have some space.” Ever feel thataway?
Ever eat a pine tree? Jk.

Ok, lemme explain how I got here. If there’s sucha thing as an auto shop giving you onea them ‘date rape drugs’ - I’ve had two of ‘em. I’ve read every Bass Pro magazine, Ladies Home Jouirnal, and Nascar magazine Meineke has to offer in the last seven days. I don’t fish, I ain’t a women, and I have a hard time telling Jeff Gordon from Dale, Jr.

But that’s not all either. Onea my very good friends - was involved in an auto accident today. This person has an awesome heart - the company of my employ treated her like dog poo poo - and it was all so undeserved. She finally had it all going for her. New job where she’s (finally) appreciated. In addition to initial starting at a higher rate, she’s attained a handsome raise in the meantime.

Today, she was going North on a two lane highway - I don’t know all the details… she rear ended someone - and her car was in the median, now pointing Southbound. She was having trouble breathing.. But word is (after a hospital visit) she’s ok.

So I’m thankful. But, she’s on my mind. I don’t want funny. I don’t want camaraderie. I can’t laugh at emails. I had a hard time getting into my job - and normally my job flows like a waterfall.

A life jolt, and I’m sorry she’s absorbed it.

I recently told this person I loved her as a person, and I do. I feel so glad that I did - because we just don’t say that enough.

One never knows when life will find them in the median. Who knows if 5 MPH more woulda found her on the other side of the highway with a certain end.

Please, count your blessings. Allow those that you admire/love/are so damn glad you know them - to know just that. With the snap of the finger life can change.

Godspeed KB. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel like forwarding you a goofy/fun email I’d received. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel like sitting around the table with other cronies I love to reminisce how we usedta do that. Maybe tomorrow I’ll learn from the know-it-all at work and not be bothered by it. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll even be funny here. (Victor, don’t push the envelope.)

Please close your eyes and thinka those in your life you’d really really hurt if they were no longer around. And somehow, someway, touch ‘em. You don’t have to well up and be sissified about it. Just find a way to ‘touch.’ The day might come we can’t touch.

Remember, I talk to me here. It shouldn't take a GD jolt for us to let those we love/cherish know. Let's make a pact tomorrow - we'll close our eyes and imagine life without those that really, really matter to us. Then, we touch 'em whilst they're/we're still here.

Thank goodness - today… silence is golden… but my eyes still see.. Love, Victurd.

Oh well.

I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin.

I love Fleetwood Mac... This song is kinda-sorta so all about me today – ceptin' for the next line maybe: But don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me too.

Oh well.

It's gorgeous weather – whether you've noticed or not. We've been waiting for this goodstuff – now we got it, so let's “do”. I planta. No, I don't mean plant. I mean plan ta. I've got a black thumb, not a green one. (From mechanical attempts on my car... “Hi, wanna go out with me?”... “well mebbe, but we can't hold hands.”)

Maynard turned the tables on me yesterday. Oh Victor, please, this ain't about the car is it? Well, mebbe. Twas driving my Hot... Rod... Lincoln home last night.. Windows down, old people's classic rock blaring, didn't care who noticed.. allofasudden there's this thump-thump-thump-thump (hella loud, louder than 25 or 6 to 4 wasa playin').. Pulled into Community Center (they don't recognize me there any longer.. no, not due to weight loss.. due to lackagoin'.. ).. Damn, that serpentine belt is offagain. (Which means, the battery ain't chargin', which means, I wasn't going very far.)

Now when I talked to God I knew he'd understand – He said, stick by my side and I'll be your guiding hand.

Maynard, oh yeah, Maynard. I made it to his City bus stop (whew)– picked him up, and his mostly frantic (the hell do I do now) father said “we gotta go straight home.. that belt broke again”... and as this frantic father had his knuckles taughtly glued to the steering wheel (as if he were in “ona United Airlines jet landing at O'Hare” and “by God these handrails are gonna save my life if/when we crash, so I ain't lettin' go).. I was talking to myself.. Blurting ugly non-profane things like “why us?.. I hate this car.. “ yada yada.. and Maynard said “Dad, I see bums every day downtown. At least we gotta roof over our head.”

Oh well.

Rectum he shaked me back into reality, perspective. HRL, don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to.

Meineke tells me, “it was a defective pump.” Durn. The pump is only fitty, and O'Reilly should/will replace that, but it costs $374 to get down to the little dooger. O'Reilly O'really tells me “well.. we can't do anything for your 'relief' – but we can file a claim with the manufacturer, and if they deem it defective, then we might get somewhere.”

Oh well. So I've got the day off. I wish I had a pedometer, 'cause I been out and about a walkin'. Onea my 'buddies' recently wisecracked the other day “I saw you walking down 291 the other day, thought it was the 'Penny Man' or something” eliciting snickers from the table we were at. (We have a disadvantaged chap in our fine town that – daily – walks miles and miles finding spare change on the ground, and in laundromats, vending machines, etc.).. Which, caused me to think to myself “self, if he saw me, whythehell didn't he stop and gimme a ride?”..Now this dude and I usedta do battle on the basketball court. He could really be an asshole, seriously, but I enjoyed that because it motivated me to try to beat him that much more. Hence, those little 'marks' surrounding 'buddy.' But don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to.

Victor, if you tell one more car story, I ain't never comin' back. Yeah, I hearya. Cars are kinda like people though.. They age, they show wear from love, abuse – the mileage, it all adds up. Then, one day they pee their pants and forget their name, or, start throwing their lifeline (serpentine belts)off of one afta another.

I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin.

Ya know what? I find myself in a very good mood. That aint' braggadocios, it's a statement. I've enjoyed the walking, truly. I love everything greening up. I see happy people. I piddle with my friends. I love my friends, coworkers – and I mostly think the reverse is true. Money worries will always be there. Car problems will happen. And happen. This whole durn blog started with my '93 checkenginelight. Roller over to the HRL. My father, for years and years bought them old clunkers (Lincolns).. Put 200,000 miles on each and every one he owned. So there's some history, and some love there. Maybe, just maybe HRL, I would give the answer that you want me to.

Life, it be good. In fact, whilst like the weather can be, cars can be, we all can be – it ain't perfect .. but it's pretty damn good. “I've gotta roof.” I gots my HS running cronies. I gots my friends here (Thanks to all who've ever stopped by to scratch a note – you'll truly never know how much each and every one means... ). I've got ma nifty chair in the cubicle where my butt has managed to give it a decent ravine over the years.. I gots my coworkers.. I gots my daily email chit-chat with Misty/Kendra – two of my alltime favorite usedta-be coworkers.. I gots Mayard.. I gots more loving family.. I gots Jackson and Figaro – and pretty damn thankful they've lived to be teenagers. Most importantly, I've gots smiles.

Now when I talked to God I knew he'd understand – He said, stick by my side and I'll be your guiding hand.... I gots God too.

I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing, I ain't pretty and my legs are thin. Yet, life, can it be any better? Love to all, Victurd.

Well shake it up baby………

(shake it up, baby)
Twist and shout. (twist and shout)
Cmon cmon, cmon, cmon, baby, now, (come on baby)
Come on and work it on out. (work it on out)

It’s happened. This blog is becoming stale. Victor.. Whomever said it was anything but that? Yeah, I know, but I remember the day in September of ‘06, I actually did have 4 visitors here.

So let’s talk. I need ideas. I’m beginning to bore myself. One can only talk so many times about driving thru Mickey D’s… there’s only so many ways to communicate that the key to a fun life is through our own outlook…

Shall we talk herpes? The election? Obama? Osama? Peyton vs. Eli Manning?

Diet and exercise? Shit, I just read canned vegetables weren’t good for you. Didn’t know that. Thought I was behaving. I’ll never purchase Campbell’s again.

My car? GOOD GOD we’re worn out on that Victor.

I know… what about sex? That’s always a fun topic. Victor.. That’s too private. It’s personal. Individual.

I know I know, but it’s always tickled me to thinka the Preacher at the Methodist Church whose been there for like 40 years.. And to imagine a night of ecstasy between him and Mrs. Preacher.

Or like Mayor Funkhouser? EWWWWWW.. Whatabout that boxer Butterbean? Yuck! Rosie O’Donnel? Double yuck!

Howabout the meek 50-something dude at work with the kinda limp wrist whose wife looks like she could chew him up and spit him out! The WalMart greeter? Orville Redenbacher?

Wouldn’t it be fun, if for just one day, it was “National Nude Day”? We’d all probably wanna vomit, seduce and pinch our nose (respectfully, or.. Mebbe disrespectfully) in the same day!

We all.. Wait! Victor, speak for yourself.. Ok, ur right.. Some of us… maybe undress people with our own imagination sometimes… What if “all that” was formally exposed, and it wasn’t all that? Man, dude, u could like hide that thing with a thimble! Or, wow, your belly really paid for havin’ them kids didn’t it?

Ok, nuffa that. We’re all naked. We’re all who we’re mostly perceived to be by our dress. “I wanna stand out.” “I wanna blend in.” “I want THE BEST.” We’re ‘the façade’ walking.

Sex is weird. It’s the most thought about subject, yet, the least shared subject. We piggos, yes, we say “my goodness did u see her?”.. whilst you piglets counter with “oh my, did u SEE that butt?”

But we don’t talk about sex. Personally. Victor, you can’t start a sentence with but. Butt we don’t talk about sex. It’s not like “Suzie, what’d you do last night?” Substitute “Well, we had some wine.. We took turns taking each other’s articles of clothing off.. Ahm… one of us kinda-sorta pleasured the other.. Then.. Frank hopped on for fast and furious.. And we collapsed in each other’s arms” for.. “Well, I went to Price Copper.. Then thru CVS for my allergy meds… and watched the local news before hittin’ it.”

Fresh. How do u keep it fresh? I’m of the opine it never has to go stale. But, then again, one scooted after 7 years, and another after 19 years.. So.. I guess, if it goes progressively, the next one will stick (no pun intended) with me for like 43 years? Hell yeah, “Oh baby oh baby” AND the discounted $3.99 Grand Slam at Dennys!

Victor, you’re stuck aren’t you. You started this blog, and now you don’t know how to get out of it… Well… that’s kinda personal, but it’s been awhile since I was stuck.. Lemme see, the last time was.. VICTOR WE DON’T WANNA KNOW!

I guess I’ll get out by saying, sex is special. And it’s private. And it’s to each his/her own. Hopefully it’s compromise. Hopefully it’s as exciting as the very first time you laid eyes on each other.

One can only control one’s self. Ceptin’ I hope for you, if it’s your wish, you kinda-sorta lose control every once in awhile. That (so I hear) is a special part of sex. Like something takes over your body. You wouldn’t act that way infronta your kids, your work, your school, your family, your next door neighbor, your Priest. But (there’s that but again).. Butt, maybe oh maybe, it’s an avenue for you to be a different creature upon occasion. I actually kinda hope so.

So Victor. What’d you do that night you met that chicky from Excelsior? “Well, I went to Price Copper.. Then thru CVS for my allergy meds… and watched the local news before hittin’ it.”

You know you twist your little girl, (twist, little girl)
You know you twist so fine. (twist so fine)
Come on and twist a little closer, now, (twist a little closer)
And let me know that you're mine. (let me know you're mine)

Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)
Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)
Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)

Thanks, as always, for being here.. And if you care to share how your night went.. .we’d loveta hear… Love, Victurd.

Ya got ma goat?

Bent outta shape….

So Victor. You write this friggin’ Pollyanna blog… You ‘preach’ this “it’s a choice”.. “life’s all about attitude, and one’s reaction”… “suckup the good, the years they fly.” Don’t you ever get pissed? I mean, what bends you outta shape?

Wow. Good question. I honestly don’t think, within the last few years, too much has “bent me outta shape.”

I’m at a loss why my ex has absolutely zero to do with her 22 yr old son (cards/money on Christmas, birthday - no phone calls or visits in two years, lives in same town).. But, I have no control over that.

I am a Customer Service fanatic, so I guess it’s little stuff that makes me boil at the stimuli….

So you wanna example? There’s a little gal, she usedta work at the local gas station. I go there because it’s locally owned, and don’t figure I’m buying too many keffiyeh’s (Arab headdress’s) when I fill up. Little gal would be on the phone, and stay on the phone, for like several minutes whilst I stood awaiting to give her my (mostly) hard earned dollars. That kinda stuff makes me “bent outta shape”. I never said anything to her.

So, the other day… I hadn’t seen Queen of the Telephone in awhile…. I’d driven thru Mickey D’s for the normal “hotcakes and two hash browns” for Maynard…. Seems they normally tuck the hash browns up under the cakes… Got home, Maynard releases “Hey Pops, where’s my hash browns?” Shit, I dunno.

So the next day… I drive thru Mickey D’s… ain’t real sure what time it was… the Drive Thru… figured I’d say “Hey, you guys shorted us two hash browns yesterday, I was gonna get a couple of double-cheeseburgers… wondering if you could credit me the two hash browns and call it even?”

Now I’d worked at Sonic. I managed a Sonic Drive Inn……. Yes, Victor, we remember “you know what your problem is? (as they moved me from $57K a year manager to $24K a year assistant manager)… you’re too GD nice.”

So, point being, take my word, ring up whatever GD key you have to ringup on the register, gimme my two double cheeseburgers - you’re happy, I’m happy.

Cepting… no… “Pull on up.. We’ll talk.”… So, I do. I get up to the window. Shit. It’s “phone lady”. “Hi, I was the one who was shorted two hash browns… can u just consider it an even exchange on this purchase?” (At Sonic, we gladly woulda done that, and maybe thrown something in on toppa that.)… “Nope, sorry, for that…it’s too busy now… you’ll have to come inside and see a manager.” I probably shoulda said “I’m not moving my car until I see the manager” - but didn’t.

See… stuff like that pisses me off…. Calling a vendor, whom we are paying, and they cop an attitude. It’s like “Look biotch.. We had a choice.. And we chose you.. And we’re paying you.. And there’s a hitch-in-the-get along, and it’s pretty obvious you don’t give a rats…and that disturbs the hell outta me, because it’s customers like me that keep you employed.”

I get bent outta shape when one perceives themselves to be holier than thou. We had an announcement of the “all 60 of you can hear” intercom Friday…. “so-and-so will be in the conference room from 3:30pm until 5pm and he prefers not to be disturbed.” I have always lived by the motto “all men are created equal.”

It bends me outta shape when I see parents doing things like pulling their kid by the ear.. Forcefully yanking their arm…

What gets your goat?

Softball practice last night. At fitty-five, I was “bent, outta shape.” Fun though. I’m rambling, but reckon I do that. Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me, long as you love me - it’s alright. Have a nice one, love, Victurd.

Don’t worry be happy….

.Went to McDonalds this morning for my El Cheapo discounted coffee, and had a momentary "to hell with the Biggest Loser Contest at work" and feasted on a sausage burrito. This made me happy. No Sports page in the newspaper rack, damnit, sad.

Four college boys from same small, liberal arts school I attended… Fun, lively, a happy age.

Granny, so slow to walk, fetched the newspaper back to the rack - saw a lady looking thru the depleted items that were now down to the grocery and want ads, handed her the paper. That was happy.

Read an article all about "the older we get, the happier we are." Twas a study done from 1972 to present - and it said it was true. Ya think?

Drove home, searched to try to find the article again online, couldn't.. but found some others. One from '06 said "Republicans are happier than Dems…. Married happier than unmarried… churchgoers happier than non-churchgoers.. Those with household incomes in excess of $100,000 happier than those with a combined less than $30,000.. 36% of whites happy, 34% of Hispanics happy, 28% of blacks happy… Owning a pet means no difference in happiness than not owning one… Retired about equally as happy as working folks..

That article was so-so. The next one I found hit the nail on the head. ""What is most interesting about this study is that people who think they are aging well are not necessarily the (healthiest) individuals," said lead researcher Dilip Jeste of the University of California at San Diego.
"In fact, optimism and effective coping styles were found to be more important to successfully aging than traditional measures of health and wellness," Jeste said. "These findings suggest that physical health is not the best indicator of successful aging—attitude is." RIGHT ON BROTHER BEN! Oops, forgot, I ain't been going to church.

I am white. I ain't Republican. I ain't married. I do have pets, but like they say "so what?" (I say "what" - they make me even happier!..) Household income over $100,00? Lemme peek at my check stub, brb…. Darnit! No!

I do, mosta the time, like my attitude. Victor, don't pat your own back. Can't. Can't reach it, so there!

Here's the results of my study, which began…ohhhh. roughly 1952 or so… I think happiness is all about "the millisecond." Newton's Law proclaims for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. Whatever the stimuli is - it's that millisecond of how we react to it. Might be someone walking down the street approaching us. How do we react? Turn our head? Stare straight ahead and not make eye contact? Or do we learn to be friendly and have a fun millisecond?

Someone irritates us, how do we respond? Holds the door open for us? Bumps into us? Looks at us as if to measure up our race, dress, economic status (or lack thereof)? Avoids us?

It's easy to be happy with good stimuli. When's the last time you frowned after sex? A fun movie? Watching your kid play ball? Seeing a family member? Waking at Christmas?

It's all the other times that are critical. And no, I ain't on the pulpit damnit - again, I write for ME, to me. Anyone welcome here - and anyone welcome to dispute.

Happy to report, I do not have to call Judge Judy (yesterday's blog.) I am here to highly recommend Meineke Auto Shoppe in Liberty, MO. They fixed my car Wednesday. Cost exactly what he quoted me before they pulled it into the bay. Overheated on me Thursday, had it towed back in to Meineke that night ($88).. As I walked in around 5:30pm to pick it up, I got my debit card out.. Hal (owner/manager) hands me the keys and says "You're all set."

WHAT? No $452 bill to fix the cooling problem? No $88 tow? "There was a valve we forgot to bleed once we finished putting your power steering pump on, completely our fault, and I apologize." Wow, talk about happy! And ya know what? I think it made Hal happy. I for sure know I'll recommend folks to his shop, and I for sure know I'll go back. Hal had adversity staring him in the face - and he turned it into happiness, mine and his.

I'm gonna go now. Out seeking life's stimuli. Practice up on my millisecond reactions. Work on that attitude. Maybe even go to church, vote for McClain, and apply for a hunderd thou job. I'll pet my cat on the way though.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Ain't that what it's all about? Don't worry (worry is like being in a rocking chair..…"it will give you something to do, but get you nowhere" right Misty?) be happy.

I ain't heard back from Glenn, the hotel hiring feller. Tis ok, I'll handle the millisecond should it not be a good end. Hal learnt me. Everyone learns me. Kids learn me. Elderly learns me. Pets learn me. It's about choice. Attitude. Reaction. Getting laid. (Sorry, just threw that one in for fun!)..

May your days and nights be fun filled and happy. Love, Victurd

24 Highway and Donnelly Street… and, we’re up to $565...

Oops… Glenn.. I got to thinking, maybe you’re just now clicking this link.. It’s the next blog after this one… Sorry!

It’s been a week. I think not long ago I’d mentioned life can sometimes be like being an average boxer... Some days you knock ‘em out - other days you find yourself on the canvas, and ya just gotta get back up and get in the ring…

Had a job interview Wednesday at 8am sharp. Buddy-o-mine that had given me ride to work Monday and Tuesday… he so very kindly dropped me off at the Hotel where I was interviewing for a part-time position… Neat man, the boss feller of the Hotel… Took the the remainder of the day off to get the HRL running.… started traversing on foot the 3 mile trek home…

Stopped by Meineke Car Care Center… asked “If I bring the power steering pump, how much would you charge to put it on my 1993 Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln…?” He clicked it all in the computer, raised his head up and said “that’ll be a two hour job, you’re talking roughly $150.” Well, that ain’t bad… I’d had a shade tree mechanic run from me when he saw the size of the engine in the HRL… I can do this… (and still eat!)….

Walked home the resta the way… I’m actually beginning to like the look of my legs again, they’re getting hella exercise of late.. I’ve walked to the Library, to Phillips 66, and to where my car was broken down (thrice times) - so the pups have been getting a workout…

Called the auto parts store (right next door to Meineke) to see if they had a power steering pump to fit my ‘93 H… R…. L… “yep, it’s fitty-two dollars, got ‘er right here on ma shelf.” Perfect. The battery charger I had hooked up to the HRL all night did the job, and it enabled me to avoid a tow… Pulled into Meineke…Met Hal at the desk.. Asked if I’d ever been there before… “yup, but you ain’t as pretty as the person that waited on me the last time I was here!”..”

Gave Hal the keys, walked next door to buy the power steering pump… “Say, is it a Signature or Executive model?” Heck I dunno, how do you tell? "Should be rahht thar on the bumper or the trunk…" K, I’ll go look. Wasn’t. Opened up the door handle to read the thingy on the insidea the door where they stamp when produced… “Manufactured 6/95.” Crap, I’d told him the wrong year. The 1993 Checkenginelight car was still ingrained in my brain. “Sorry, it’s a ‘95, my bad.” “Oh we ain’t got that one, sorry.”

So I said hello to my legs again, walked the the next closest auto parts store.. “Nope, sorry, fresh out. You can get it at our warehouse offa Front Street” (some ten miles away.). At this point my legs locked up as if to say “Nope, no way, huh uh, nomme.” I agreed. Ring, Ring. “Clay, can I borrow you for an hour.” Yep. Whew.

So called Hal @ Meineke ‘hey Hal, I thought they had the pump in stock.. Didn’t.. it’s gonna take me 30 minutes or so, so I was just calling to let you know so you wouldn’t tie up your bay.” “Hey Vic, when you left, I went next door to look for you… there’s been a little misunderstanding here… your engine is a 4.6, NOT the same as the one we thought.”

“Yeah, sorry, I told you the wrong year.” “BIG difference here. You’re looking at 4 hours labor, $375 insteada two hours, $150.” Borrowing a line from Meatloaf, “let me think on it… Hal baby let me think on it.”

I could do. It’ll be tight $$-wise, but I could do. “It’s cool. Please go ahead and fix it, but I’m not promising to love you til the end of time Hal.”

Six hours later, a sunburn thanks to the grassy knoll I snoozed on for two hours.. I’m handin’ over more twenties than I seen since I ran the desk at the Soooper 8.. And I’m off in the Hot… Rod… Lincoln… all was good.. Safe at home for the night.

Next morn, jumped in car. Long about a mile down the road, hear this “ding ding ding”.. Dashboard telling me “check temperature gauge.” Did. Uh oh.. Shit. Pulled into gas station in my homey town. Do I miss work again, or do I try putting more water in and see what happens? More water, it’s summertime, I have the time to take off - but I can’t allow my work to sit two days in a row…

Ahhh… the defroster kicked in… temp gauge behaved all the way to turn off to work.. LIG. (Life is good.) Ding ding ding. Uh oh. Yep, overheated again. So I’m thinking, it’s ok, it loves 65 mph, it’s just the 25 mph it hates. I’ll be fine tonight once I jump on the highway.

5pm.. See you guys.. Have a nice evening…Worked an hour over.. Vrooom says the HRL.. I inch my way to Interstate… No, no heater yet. Enter the ramp to the place I can go 65. Yes, it’ll be all good. But it wasn’t. Kept putting my hand up there to feel the heat, and there weren’t no heat. So I get off on 87th street. Gently undo the radiator cap.. PSSSSSSSSSSSSSS… Pour more water in.. off I go… By Gregory (the next exit) “ding ding ding.” More water. Back on the road.

Ding ding ding. 63rd street exit, more water. Missed the ramp to get back on Interstate North.. Thought “I’ll just turn around here”.. oops. Interstate South… Took Gregory exit (again).. More water.. More ding ding ding..

Ding ding ding… 24 Highway.. I know I know, more water. Cept the car died on the off ramp. Six cars behind me honking, at least four of which had men in them that could surely beat the crap outta me. Five very long minutes later, more water, it started!

Turned right on Donnelly Street. Died again. No ding ding ding this time. More water. Started. I turned around. Or tried to. Died. There across the entire narrow span of Donnelly Street, the crossways Hot… Rod… Lincoln had North and South traffic blocked. I say a little prayer for you, I say a little prayer for you.. Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart
And I will love you (HRL)…..

Finally got it turned around. Now this 24 Hwy and Donnelly area - maybe it was a good thing I broke down there. Helped not to direct pity inward. The house I was parked infronta, ten, count ‘em ten children ranging in age from diapers to twelve - walked outta the house to see who this stranger was (and to play in the rain.) Five minutes later momma runs outside, sees her kids getting all muddy, said something ‘sounded kinda scornful in Spanish… I don’t think it was “the chocolate chip cookies are ready!” Succinctly, others worse off than me. Maybe a two bedroom house.

By now battery didn’t even have enough juice for three dings. Inevitable. I ain’t making it home in the HRL. We’re ding-ding-ding, cha-ching-ching-ching, at $470 and counting.

“Hello Mr. Tow man? This is Vic. Say I’m here at the Quick Trip on 24 highway…just’n offa 435.. How much for a tow back home to Meineke?.. And could the feller come tonight? “Well lemme see… $40 hookup fee… ‘bout twelve miles.. You’re looking at $95.” Gulp. There are probably hookers in Vegas for less than $95. “Ok, bring the dude on.” This HRL is the best $4000 car I've ever bought for $1500.

The wait at QT was mostly uneventful. Poorer people are just like barely a little better off people. Dads held the hands of young’s so they didn’t get run over. Laughs and “howdy’s” happened. And if I saw one, I saw ten BBW walk in and buy 3 packs a cigs. They musta had a 3-pack BBW special a goin’ on at the QT.

Tow truck arrived. Quiet feller. ‘Til he got a little soaked as he laid on the ground to hookup the cables. A few F-bombs, and ten minutes later we were off, and HRL stowed neatly away on the flatbed.

“I’ma little nervous about that one hookup.” I’d prayed the dude was a smoker. Wasn’t. When he said that, I needed one more than ever. I rethunk it, even said "the way I feel about my HRL now, I wouldn't mind if it fell off. I wouldn't sue ya".. "Yeah, but it's them folks behind me that might." When you’re going twelve miles at $8 a mile, I figured the conversation oughta be special, so I kinda let him lead the way, and I nodded my head “yup” with every thing he said. Figured to get on his better side, I might not haveta walk home from Meineke, and mebbe, just mebbe he’d leave the meter off if he took me home.

“Yeah, just split up with the old lady two weeks ago… five kids.. “… Dang, sorry to hear that. Ya know, one example I’ve learned the hard way, one can only control one’s self. “Yep, and she thought she could control me, 18 years and she didn’t learn no better. You get out of it what you put in it.”

I thought that was kinda prophetic. “You get out of it what you put in it.” Maybe not quite as cool as the aforementioned “Boogy till you die”, yet, still… not bad.

So, after about 10 miles, some $80 cha-ching ding ding later, I asked about the meter still runnin’ whilst he takes me home. “I’m presently, thanks to $470 already, a po man, I don’t mind walking.” Nah, think nothing’ of it. Whar ya live? Told him. I can do that, just remember to do a favor for another in our boat on down the road. “Cool.” I wanted to see if I could stop and get my kid two double cheeseburgers at Mickey-D’s, but decided that might be pushing it.

So… $565 later, here I sit, no car. “Mike, can I have a ride again tomorrow?”… Thinkin’ about what I’ll say to Hal/Meineke when I call in the morning. After all, the HRL WASN’T overheating prior to me dropping it off the last time. “Let me sleep on it.”

Life, it’s fun. It’s funny. It’s ding ding ding. It’s drenched clothes. Po people, barely better off than po people. Reckon “you get out of it, what you put in it.” Yep, liked that.

Seeya tomorrow, same Bat Channel. Will it be “Vic, I’m sorry, we musta discombobulated something in the circulation lines.. No charge little buddy”… or… Judge Judy, here I come.

Let me sleep on it, baby baby let me sleep on it. Love, Victurd.

You’re really giving this to a potential employer?

Well yes, yes I am. Giving what? And what job? I thought you had a good job?

Well, yes. I do. I’m considering giving a copy of this blog to Glenn… I applied for a part-time night auditor position at a local hotel. This is a want/need job. I miss customer service. I love working with vendors, and attempt to treat them as nicely as customers - but I miss working with the general public. Need. You’ve been here on this blog thru “thick and ‘pen’”.. You know the need. Single dad, Hot… Rod… Lincoln with many problems.

Victor did you tell Glenn, after you interviewed that you walked home over 3 miles because your Hot… Rod… Lincoln was in the shop?? SSSSSHHHHH! No, I didn’t. I didn’t want him to think I was unreliable. If the one I reported to directly until this week happens by, mebbe she’d address my reliability.

Ok, for three years… I’ve been the one on this end of the keyboard. I’m asking you.. Mary W, Mary T, Misty, Kendra, Terry (all current or former coworkers) to submit a one paragraph statement (on this very blog right now), about me If you felt I am/was a good worker, have at. If you think/thought I was a schmuck, have at.. Am I a fun-loving Tigger or a sad-sack Eeyore? Anyone that reads this that’s been around here the last three years - you’re welcome to have at a paragraph. I can spout all I want in a 30 minute interview when asked “what do people say about you?” - and I think I answered something like “nice guy.” Ok, so maybe I lied! If you’ve observed this wonderful roller coaster of life with me here and you feel the need to type, have at.

You see, Glenn “gets it”. Life. Work mixed with service AND fun. Responsibility - with a genuine smile. The man was wearing a Mickey Mouse tie! What could be better!

But Victor. You can’t start a sentence with but. But Victor, won’t he know that you’ve selected people that maybe will say something good? Sure - but the way I see it, I really want this job - and maybe by trying to go an extra step he’d think to himself “hmmm, maybe he would be Ok for this position..”

Thanks, in advance, for doing so (don‘t forget justa paragraph! Mr. Glenn‘s a busy man with that full house he‘s runnin! Mr. Glenn, thanks for your eyeballs here. Please know, whether “yay or nay” I genuinely enjoyed meeting you… Smiles and happy are HUGE with me, and you are that. Kudos.

Thanks all… VICTOR WAIT! You’re not gonna signoff like you always do are you? Well sure I am… scroll to Mickey! Love, Victurd

Stuff that feels good…

Just my list. Got yours?

Popping bubble wrap.

Laying in a dentist’s chair (With no dentist around… I really dig them neck holder thingys.. I no comprende why they don’t somehow manufacture in an easy chair.)

Talcum powder…

A warm waterbed on a sub-zero night…

A cool waterbed on a 100 degree day…

Petting a purring cat…

Dog ears…

Waking up on one’s birthday…

Taking shoes off after 8+ hours….

A warm, relaxing bath….

A backrub…

Giving a backrub…

The face, after a clean shave..

Those squeeze, frustration balls…

The moment, on a cold day, when the heater/defroster kicks in on your car…

Pulling into the destination after a long drive…

Checking one’s bank account right after automatic payroll deposit…

Finding a ten dollar bill in a pair of pants….

Seeing an email from someone you wanna see…

Friday, 5pm….

Looking at the alarm clock, Friday night, reaching to set the alarm and thinking “nahhh.”

A straight on smile from an unknown member of the opposite sex…

A straight on smile from a friend ya ain’t seen in awhile….

Christmas…

Thanksgiving….

Looking at old pics of fun times…

“Mean tease” in a complimentary way…

Cologne…

Driving with the windows down……..

Sunrise….

Sunset…

Moments with friends and no hurry…

An open line at the grocery store….

An inside joke….

Hands thru someone’s hair….

Someone’s hands thru your hair….

Watching someone’s eyes when they open a present from you…

Been awhile, but that floatee thingy at Ocean’s of Fun where you are perpetuated as you relax on a raft in circle after circle, no impetus needed…

Friends who are bloggers, and they finally realize “you’ve carried this too far.”

(One more… please? Bloggers who check their email and see “new blog comment”!)

Here’s toasting feel goods… Love, Victurd.

The perfect storm…

Ever noticed how peaceful it is right after a storm?

Ever noticed how, when the throes of life get one down, how later you realize how silly you looked, felt, acted, when you thought it was “all over.”

Ever closed your eyes in mid-kiss, when you perhaps thought you’d never kiss again?

Ever wonder just how you’re gonna $wing it, and miraculously a check you hadn’t counted on, planned on, shows up in the mailbox?

Ever need help… not really “shouted out”.. but somehow friends sensed so… and were there.. And they made the problem go away?

Ever been down, down, down and a friend, or loved one, says something or wings an email that lifts you up, up, up?

Ever driven in a storm, pulled over… perhaps under and underpass… into a Flying J.. or’a Waffle House… and when it’s safe to go, how much more attentive you are to the rules of the road?

Even see the forecast… “uh oh, storm brewing… I’ll make it thru.. Just onea life’s things we’re forced to deal with.”

When we take a moment to look back… the times that were bad, really bad.. Don’t seem so rough now… We perhaps demonstrated wild behavior, slung words we didn’t mean to sling, questioned, REALLY questioned the fortitude of “Ahm, can I really make it through this?”

I hate the rain… being out in it that is… I’m deathly afraid of driving in MidWestern winter weather.. My tummy churns at family disagreements… I abhor having to “step up to the plate” as a parent.. I wish I slept with someone besides (or in addition to) my cat Jackson (even though I think I’d die if he did.)

Storms remind us, we only control ourselves..

They say San Diego has the most pleasant weather in the Continental 48. Friend just now back visiting, maybe permanent as she’s considering separating. I guess storms even happen there.

Deep breaths. I love deep breaths… I do my best thinkin’ when I take deep breaths… Reminds me “Hey, it ain’t that bad. Look all around, many others way worse off. Lighten up and chill.”

I remember the 14”’s of snow in the mid-80’s… Father traversed 23 miles to ensure his son and daughter inlaw had plenty to eat…

The ice storm, uncertain the year. Mom and dad, sans electricity ten days, had the fireplace going, a potta chili hanging, and were playing Monopoly by candlelight.

I remember, Victor “shut your mouth” a few years back, at work, rumors afloat about one said Executive Administrative Assistant (married lady) and one said Sales Rep (married man, but not to her).. And by 3pm they were closing roads it’d snowed so damn much. Home, they sent us home. AHA! Their chance! She ran around the building shooing people out with rather terse words… “HURRY!”.. “GO!”… I think they enjoyed the storm.

Storms = money, lack thereof… Singlehood, the want of not.. Boredom, the itching’ burning for a hunka hunka burning love.. Car woes - at least for me.. (I’m hitching a ride to work tomorrow.. HR(P)L power steering pump fell off, and me thinks that ain’t a good thing.)… Hurtful words - not perhaps said with intent to hurt, nonetheless, they stung.

All that crap don’t matta… The sun’ll come out, tomorrow. I hate that little redhead, but I love her take on things… Storms with snarls, frowns, sneers and white knuckles are very soon replaced with smiles, pats on the back, feel goods and relaxation.

The sun’ll come out, tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow, there'll be sun
Jus' thinkin' about, tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow
'til there's none

When I'm stuck with the day that's grey and lonely
I just stick out my chin and grin and say, ohhh

The sun will come out, tomorrow
So you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow
Come what may...

Tomorrow, tomorrow
I love ya, tomorrow
You're always a day away

We’ll weather the storms whether you believe it or not. Storms bring flowers, relaxation, teamwork, camaraderie, and the realization “this too shall pass.” Bring it on rain, we’re having a parade here.

Love, Victurd

Hot…. Rod…… (Psychic) Lincoln……

Just when I thought nothing could ‘top’ my 1993 200,000+ miles Ford FallingApart Taurus… I now have the Hot… Rod…. (Psychic) Lincoln…

It basically looks me over, then presents “Fear Me Muther Dubber” - and I do.

Like the other day… I stuggled (no power steering, I really think it went out because it knows that life for me, hell for everyone in this economic state, is a struggle) into the ATM lane… got up to it as close as the steering would allow in the tight 90 degree turn - quarters… I was going out for the evening - and with an all too familiar limited budget (Victor, you HAVE no budget).. Ahm, anyways, I was taking $20 out when I probably shouldn’ta been taking twenty dollars out. So I’ve got my fitty-five year old butt six inches off the carseat so I could reach to punch in my code… enter…. Checking…enter. $20... Enter… and as 1/3 a me is out the window, the window decides on its own, now would be a good time to raise. As if “you don’t have that extra money… STOP.” I managed only a slight bruise on the upper arm, I did grab my money, and my receipt is somewhere on Highway 291 blowing around…

Last night. I traverse the same way every day. Past Royal’s Stadium, down the hill, round the big curve.. Upagin the most God-awful smelling chemical plant this sidea the Mississippi. Apparently, Hot… Rod… (Psychic) Lincoln had had just about enough of the odor - and again, raised up on it’s own.

Then there’s the door latch, or supposed door latch. I think HR(P)L (for short) reminds me “she left”.. and “sometimes I wish he would leave.” If you don’t open the passenger side lock after it’s electronically been locked - then the door will fly open upon a left turn. Again, it reminds me “she left”.. and the sometimes want of “I wish he’d leave.” (Empty nest)… Looking positively, I have found it to come in handy when dating and things just ain’t going quite right. “Hey, let’s go that way.” “Nope, sorry, we’re turning left.” Wooooosh… ker-platt… oops, sorry!”

“You dumbass you.” It reminds me I’m a tightass, and that my mechanical skills ain’t quite up to par. Recently (with the tent/pouring rain) I changed the brakes. An assured $289 Meineke bill had been paired to $63. After I finished, I noticed the little metal plate thingys in the bottom of the brake pad box as I began to throw it away. Shit. They were supposed to be affixed to the brake pads. I hadn’t done that, and I would be damned if I would do it on that wet day after I’d spent four hours in the driving rain. In the two weeks I drove it without the little metal thingys, enough dust was ‘manufactured’ that once I did put them on there - HR(P)L “protested” with a squeaky wheel noise when I applied the brakes, turned the corner - that anyone within two miles could hear it. I know HR(P)L, I’m a dumbass.

“Biggest loser.” We’re having that contest at work. I haven’t combined exercise and diet, but thru diet, Victurd once was 213, now 193. I’ve lived on Price Chopper and Wendy’s salads - and an occasional piece of chicken. Friday night, ‘visitor night’ at “The Peckerwood Club” (A story for another day), I had two pork steaks, seven helpings of vegetables, four thick slices of heavenly buttered bread and several Miller Lites to wash it all down. I was so GD full, and so GD drained from the week - I slept until 10am… and I ain’t slept until 10am since college. I thought my belt was gonna explode. So, what’s HR(P)L do? As I turned a corner - I hear this pop, and immediately the battery light comes on. The GD belt exploded, and the battery light came on. We’re now a pair. Exploded belts, and no juice/energy.

So, it (The Hot… Rod… (Phychic) Lincoln, or HR(P)L, scares me. I’m afraid to takea dump for fear of perhaps the oil pan bursting. I’m worried that once this never-will-end Winter/Spring transition finally does end, the AC will go out. I’m deathly afraid to even consider making whoopee, cause I just know then the next time we’re on Interstate, the cruise control will go ballistic and I’ll be destined to a ditch somewhere in Raytown thanks to a heightened 98 MPH cruise.

I pet it now. I kiss it. I try very hard not to think negative thoughts - or to doubt it once I’m buckled in. I make no jackrabbit takeoffs. I say “YES, my pecs are starting to look GOOD” insteada cursing inside at that lacka power steering. I park and walkup to the ATM. I make passengers (I like) buckle up.

My pappy said "Son your gonna drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop driving that hot rod Lincoln"

Have you heard the story of the hot rod race
Where the Fords and the Lincolns were setting the pace?
Well that story is true cause I'm here to say
I was driving that model A.

It's got Lincoln motor and its really souped up
And that model A body makes it look like a pup
It's got eight cylinders, uses them all
It's got overdrive, just won't stall

It's got a four barrel carb, and dual exhaust
With four, eleven gears you can really get lost.
It's got safety tubes, but I ain't scared
Breaks are good, tires fair

(You know the middle part… then:)

I had flames coming from out of the side
Feel the tension, man what a ride
I said "Look out boys, I've got a license to fly"
And that Caddy pulled over and let us by

All of the sudden she started knocking
Down in the dips she started rocking
I looked in the mirror. Red lights were blinking
The cops was after my Hot Rod Lincoln - Damn

The arrested me and they put me in jail
Called my pappy to throw my bail
And he said "Son, you're going to drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop driving that Hot Rod Lincoln"

SSSSHHHHHHHH! (She’ll hear you!)..

I REALLY DO (kinda-sorta) love my Hot… Rod… (Psychic) Lincoln… Love, Victurd.